


Publishing Suicide Notes Does Not Make You Friends

by Glen_Coco



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, Negative Self Talk, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Suicide mention, alana is important and needs to be recognized as that, alana is not okay, canon complaint, cursing, fluff and angst will most likely be present here, i am sincerely sorry as this is most likely very very bad, i just want them to be happy and healing, probably ooc but i'm trying here, relationships are not the main focus but they do occur, slow burn i guess, will add more as story progresses - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glen_Coco/pseuds/Glen_Coco
Summary: Alana deals with the aftermath of publishing Connor's suicide note. She comes to regret her decision.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so sorry if it sucks!

“What do you mean you’re quitting the Connor Project? Why?” Alana was pacing her room, barely containing her rising panic. The attention that the release of the suicide note had garnered for the Connor Project was overwhelming; the page had been getting four times as many hits as it had previously; they were on the front page of the local news; reputable sources had written articles about them. Yet Evan Hansen was calling her barely four days after it was published, declaring that he was resigning as co-president. “We have to continue, Evan! People want to talk to us more than ever before. Imagine what we could do, together. Imagine all the people we could reach, all the people we could help!”  
“I-I know, but it’s just – it’s just too, um, overwhelming right now, okay Alana? I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”  
“Evan, I know you disagreed with me publishing Connor’s suicide note-”  
“That’s one way to put it-”  
“but it was the only way to meet our deadline for the orchard. It was the only way to fulfil Connor’s dying wish.”  
“It – It really isn’t about the – the suicide note. I just – I need to take some time off. To heal. It’s just – I can’t do this right now, and besides you don’t even need me, you said so yourself.”  
“That was then, Evan. This is now. You can’t leave the Connor Project.”  
“Alana. I just – please. I can’t do this.”  
Alana paused in her pacing, her heart seeming to vanish from her chest. Evan had never sounded so small before; but how could she let him leave? He was her co-president, all the comments were requesting him; if they continued to ride this wave then the Connor Project would be able to reach so many more students. “Evan, the Connor Project needs you now more than ever.”  
“I’m sorry. I really – I can’t do this.”  
“Evan -”  
The phone call ended. Alana felt her breathing coming ragged. She did not just lose her co-president. She didn’t. His absence wouldn’t go unnoticed with all these eyes on them. Rumors would start to spread, and the name of the Connor Project would be muddied. What would they say? Would they figure out that she had published the suicide note against Evan’s will? No. She would be ruined and alone. No one would dare talk to her.  
Alana’s body felt numb, her breathing was shallow. Her knees gave way beneath her. They throbbed from where they hit the hardwood. She felt her heart raging against her chest, sweat oozing from every orifice, a slight tremble shaking her. How could she fix this? Could she fix this? She needed Evan back for at least one month, until the publicity died down. But how would she get him back? Alana pressed her hands to her temples, trying to think, but nothing but panic ate at her skull. She felt herself spinning away from her control. She couldn’t see clearly. Alana could never see clearly whenever something like this happened.  
However, Alana didn’t have time for this. She had a project to save. Alana pushed herself to her knees and moved to her laptop. Her legs were made of cotton. Every breath was lighter than the last. When she fell into her office chair, she saw the world go black.

Alana opened her eyes.  
Alana had had a couple panic attacks before. Most of them were when her schedule changed unexpectedly, such as when her dad had cancelled her gymnastics lessons and she spent the entire car ride home crying about how no one would bother to talk to her now. She had been seven then. She had stayed awake during the entire panic attack, despite the world turning fuzzy so many times. Alana had kept some semblance of control over her life.  
Now, Alana had no control at all. She had crawled her way off the floor only to collapse into her chair and faint. She had never fainted before. Alana Beck didn’t faint. Alana Beck did not ruin herself. Alana Beck did not lose her co-president after publishing a dead kid’s suicide note. There were a lot of things Alana didn’t do.  
Alana Beck still didn’t feel her toes.  
So she sat in her office chair, too weak to open up her laptop and check to see if Evan had removed his name from the Connor Project website but too stubborn to stop obsessing over it. She prayed his name was still on there.  
Keep calm, Alana thought. You can do this. She would have to win Evan back at school on Monday, tomorrow. Until then, she would plan content for the members of the Connor Project community. They wanted more. Alana couldn’t disappoint them.  
Alana Beck did not come up short.  
She heaved a sigh. She would take five minutes to calm down, and then start working until eight o’clock, when she would be called down to dinner. She would eat for an hour, talk with her family, and then prepare for bed. Alana would be asleep by ten, and would talk to Evan during the morning and request to meet at lunch. If he avoided her, fine, Alana had plenty of practice of making conversation with people who weren’t there to see her. Alana would convince him to come back for one month. She had to. The only other option was failure. Alana Beck did not fail.  
But, just in case, she should have a back-up plan. Something that would keep the viewers held over until Alana convinced Evan to make an appearance. Several of the comments Alana had read after the publication of the suicide note were concerned with the Murphys; Mrs. Murphy’s ineptitude, Mr. Murphy’s negligence, and Zoe Murphy’s harshness. They had been hit with a lot of heat due to the release of the suicide note; many people blamed them for Connor’s death. When she had first reviewed these comments, guilt had gnawed at her stomach. It still did; queasiness crept up on Alana as she thought about it. However, it had been necessary to meet the deadline for the Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard, and it had brought the Connor Project community together in a way they never had been before. She would have to clear their name. She should start on that right now.  
However, Alana was still too weak to move, so she just sat there, staring up at her ceiling. It was white, as were her walls. She had organized her room well: her closet was opposite of her bed, which always was neatly made; her pristine desk where she currently sat at was across the door; family photos lined the walls, showing Alana with her gymnastic team, her first dog who died of lymphoma, and her and her family at a barbeque her aunt had hosted five years ago. Her mother was smiling in that picture and had an arm wrapped around a younger Alana. The two were matching. She had organized all the photos in her room in chronological order. She always made sure her room was nice and tidy just in case she had company over. She thought that her cleanliness would leave a fantastic impression.  
Alana wiggled her toes. They were cold, but at least she knew they were there. It was time for her to see if Evan had edited the website. She pulled open her laptop, clicked on the Connor Project widget and immediately went to the staff page. Her heart was beating in her throat and she had to take a second to wipe her palms off on her sweats because her hands were slick and clammy. The page was taking an age to load.  
The staff directory appeared. It was all typed in Arial font, size eleven. It was a very professional look. Alana had designed it herself.  
She scrolled down until she found CO-PRESIDENTS; her breath hitched. Beneath it was just a few lines. It read:  
Alana Beck ( also associate treasurer, media consultant, chief technology officer, assistant creative director/public policy director for creative project initiatives) and Evan Hansen (best friend of Connor Murphy) currently oversee the Connor Project.  
Alana felt her tension lift. Thank god. Evan still appeared as co-president. Now she just had to get him back, just for one month. Then Alana could run the Connor Project alone.  
Alana opened a new tab and scrolled through twitter. No one had messaged her. Alana went to Facebook. No one had messaged her. Alana scrolled through her email. No one had messaged her. Alana scrolled through twitter again. No one had messaged her.  
Alana shut her laptop. This was getting depressing. Besides, there was no point in looking to see if anyone was talking to her; no one ever did, and there was no reason tonight would have been different. Acquaintances weren’t particularly chatty, as Alana had learned over the years. She had her parents though; they would be looking forward to hear about her day. She had spent it reviewing comments on the Connor Project and planning video topics. Alana had wanted Evan and the Murphys to discuss some of the symptoms Connor had been showing leading up to his suicide so that way more people could spot them. He would still do the video; Alana would get him back. She would.  
She had also had an idea exclusively for the Murphy family. She wanted them to visit the Autumn Smile Apple Orchard before it was rebuilt. She thought it would really help save the family’s image. She already had a draft of the email requesting them for the video written up; all she needed to do now was to send it, but she could do that later. Alana was exhausted.  
The hour passed by both slowly and quickly. She got no work done. So much for her plan.  
“Alana! Dinner’s ready!” Her dad called her from downstairs. Today was a Sunday, so that meant he had cooked a meal. It was typically a roast of some kind, and tonight was no different. Alana could already smell the dinner.  
“Coming dad!” Alana meandered her way down the stairs. She wasn’t feeling very hungry.  
“Set the table for me dear.” Her father said, glancing up at her as he removed the roast beef from the oven. He was wearing a “Kiss the Chef” apron.  
The table was quickly set, the roast was served, and Alana’s mother made it home just in time for the family meal. She had been out at Alana’s grandmother’s house to talk to the realtor. Grandmother had lived alone, and with her death it had passed into Alana’s mother’s ownership. They were going to sell it.  
“Mom! How did the meeting with the realtor go?”  
“Amazing, Alana. We’re thinking about – oh, is this beef?”  
“Only for you, my dear.” Alana’s dad gave his wife a smile.  
“Thank you, Terence. I love your apron.”  
He glanced down at the apron still strung around him. “It suits me.”  
“It does. Now tell me Alana, how was your day? The Connor Project is going well, I hope?”  
Alana tried to seem enthusiastic. She plastered a smile to her face. “It’s going so well mom! Evan’s a bit reluctant to film some videos right now, but I’m going to talk to him tomorrow and convince him to.” All she needed was for Evan to be around for one more month.  
“You’re such a stubborn girl Alana. You get that from your grandmother. I’m sure you can convince him.” She said it so easily, like Alana could do anything. After all, she was involved in a countless number of activities and never seemed to tire. No one seemed to think she could. Alana appeared unstoppable.  
“Thanks mom. Thanks for the meal dad! I’m going to go to bed, can I be excused?” Her mother nodded and Alana washed her plate and went upstairs. She closed her door quietly and collapsed in her bed, her face blank and dull. No one would look at her now and see her as unbeatable.  
Her phone sat on her bedside table. It was an iPhone, with a colorful case and clean screen. If she picked it up, she would go onto Twitter and see if anyone’s messaged her before tweeting that she was going to bed after a lovely dinner with her family. She would put some smiley faces at the end, double check her messages, plug in her phone, and go to sleep. Alana would not be brushing her teeth tonight because she was tired and every bone weighed her down.  
Alana picked up her phone. She had no new messages, no new texts, nothing. No one talked to her. Even though she was the co-president of the Connor Project, no one except Evan and, occasionally, Jared would reach out to her. And now that Evan was resigning from the Connor Project…  
No. Evan was going to be co-president for at least one more month, and he was going to text her during that month and collaborate with her and help her design the orchard. He was going to talk to her, just like she was going to talk to him tomorrow at lunch. She would get him back. She had to get him back. Alana plugged in her phone and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.  
Alana Beck did not sleep well that night.  
She barely slept at all.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Panic attack and negative self-talk in this baby.

The mirror in the downstairs bathroom needed to be cleaned. It was freckled with congealed toothpaste and grime. Alana couldn’t even get a clear view of her face as she hid the shadows under her eyes with some concealer. She should clean it after school.  
If she had time after school, that is. Afterwards Alana had to tutor Anthony, then she had to email the Murphys, respond to comments on the Connor Project page, and finish her homework. She would be busy for hours.  
Alana’s morning had been quietly uneventful. She hadn’t needed her alarm to wake her; she had just laid in bed for what could have been hours as she waited for the sun to rise. She had dressed sharply, eaten, then made her way downstairs to the bathroom. She had brushed her teeth. She was right on schedule, maybe even a bit early. How perfect.  
“I’m going to school! I love you mom, dad!” There were muttered responses from the  
kitchen; her parents were busy with work. Alana left the bathroom, picked up her backpack and keys, and was out the door.  
Alana used to ride on the bus until she was sixteen. Every morning Alana would have gotten up and walked down to the bus stop, backpack on her shoulder, and waited fifteen minutes for the bus to arrive. No one ever sat with her on the bus, so she always made a point to sit up front and try to talk to the bus driver if she was feeling brave enough. Most of them didn’t take too kindly to her talking to them, but they never tried to shut her up. Sometimes she would even get them to grunt in agreement or groan. Alana figured that was an accomplishment, considering they were driving early in the morning and their coffee hadn’t kicked in yet.  
This changed when Alana got a car of her own. It was a used silver vehicle, and in shabby shape when it first came under her ownership. The painting was chipped, the seats were scratched, and a scent of mildew had stubbornly clung to it for the first six weeks. However, Alana had quickly fixed this. She had payed for it to be repainted, bought bright blue seat coverings, and got it washed free of bird feces and dirt. It now looked quite impressive, in Alana’s opinion. It was clean and orderly inside, and she had decorated the dashboard with a motivational quote to get her ready for her day.   
However, it didn’t do much to help Alana that morning. Although Michelle Obama was an inspirational woman, her words felt empty and cold. They didn’t make her strong that morning; in fact, they only highlighted how much Alana fell short. She couldn’t keep a business partner, much less anything more; no matter how impressive and open she was, no one wanted to know anything about her. Her car was clean for nobody but herself.   
“Enough of that.” Alana shook herself out of her self-pity and drove to school with NPR playing in the background. It told her how the world was falling apart, and was great for starting conversations with her mom’s coworkers.   
The parking lot was slowly filling up by the time Alana arrived. It was twenty minutes before the bell; just the right time to grab a good parking spot and chat up some acquaintances. She parked under the shade of a tree - Evan would know what kind - and got out, snatching her bag from its seat and headed inside the building.  
Most students at Valley Pine High School would complain about the drab colors of the walls or the droll voices of the teachers, but personally, Alana liked nearly everything about the campus and its staff. There were certainly some teachers she didn’t care too much for, but mostly everything about the school suited her needs, especially its demographic. The school attracted the upper class, such as the Murphy family, and the especially hard working, such as Alana and Evan. This meant Alana was typically surrounded by dedicated students, which was great. Amazing. Wonderful. Spectacular.   
Except of course, Alana didn’t really know if she mattered if she wasn’t the best student in her year. It was such a comfort to know that most times she would be surrounded by students just as industrious as her, but it was also frightening. If she didn’t excel, then who could see her? She would be invisible, lost in the sea of diamonds in the rough, and no one would bother to look at her and think, maybe she was someone worth their time, someone worth messaging or even talking to. Her parents would be disappointed, colleges would reject her, and no one would care. The thought of being so unseen had filled her with fear when she first enrolled. She had made sure to be involved in as many clubs as possible, constantly in reach of her fellow students, always achieving the highest grades so her parents would be proud of her, but somehow, no one ever tried to talk to her. Alana wasn’t enough.   
Clouds began to condense in the sky, turning the world into a shadowy haze, and Alana made her way inside the school and to Evan’s locker to wait for him. She spent fifteen minutes concentrated on her phone and checking to see if anyone messaged her when she was interrupted by a familiar form approaching her. Alana glanced up, but felt her hopes dissipate in her stomach when she recognized who it was.  
“Oh, hello Jared! How was your weekend? Mine was so busy; I spent it planning content for the Connor Project and working at the library. Did you see the assignment Mrs. Heckles gave us? The one where we had to -”  
“Yeah Alana, I really don’t care. Listen, Evan texted me last night saying he’s quitting the Connor Project, and I was really… bamboozled, you know? Why would Evan, your co-president, be quitting the Connor Project? It couldn’t have something to do with you publishing Connor’s suicide note, could it? Against Evan’s will?”  
Jared’s voice was full of biting rage. His weaselly eyes were narrowed against his glasses, his hands stuffed angrily into his khaki shorts. Alana blinked at him before she could formulate a response, trying to ignore the sudden queasiness that overtook her.   
“I did what I had to do, Jared. It was the only way to fulfill Connor’s dying wish. It’s what Connor would have wanted.”  
“Yeah you keep telling yourself that Alana. Let me guess, you didn’t want to have to write down you failed in the ‘most ambitious kickstarter since the internet was first created’ on your college applications?”  
“No! Publishing the suicide note was the only option, Jared! As co-president of the Connor Project -”  
“As co-president you should have made the decision with Evan, together! No,” Jared cut through Alana’s attempt to explain. “No, don’t go trying to find an excuse for what you did. Evan can’t even come to school today because you published his - because you published Connor’s suicide note. In fact, I don’t want to see you near him, I don’t want you talking to him, you’re going to be leaving Evan alone, you got that?”  
“You’re speaking a lot for Evan, considering you’re his family friend.”  
“Yeah, and that changed after you published his letter, Alana! Fuck you!”  
The bell rang, Jared stormed off, and Alana was paralyzed for a heartbeat before she went to her first period.

The rest of the day passed in the same grey haze that had captivated the morning, with each hour growing more and more dismal as time went on. Eventually the grey clouds overhead were thick with coming precipitation and Alana’s eyes were just slightly wet. It had been a stressful day. Jared’s words stabbed into her whenever she was unoccupied, to the point where she couldn’t bring herself to chat up any acquaintances in the halls, and at lunch she had crept off to hide behind one of the bathrooms because she was too afraid to try to sit next to someone she hardly knew and fake an appetite. By the time Alana had left school, she was feeling as heavy as the clouds overhead.   
There was still hope though, Alana was sure of it. She would just have to go around Jared’s back and talk to Evan at his house. Jared never visited there. She would surely get some quality time with Evan himself, and convince him to come back for just one month. She just needed him for one month. That was all.  
“Please,” Alana murmured. She was sat in her car, bag in the passenger seat, seat belt buckled, hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. She felt pathetic. She was sitting in her car, by herself, an atheist talking to nobody but god. How much more deplorable could she get? She could have a breakdown in her car, or her bathroom, or her room like she did yesterday. That was always an option, because apparently Alana Beck was now the type of person who fainted after a phone call with her friend - no, acquaintance. That was who she was. Someone so inadequate that no matter what she did, no one would bother to see her and think that she was someone worth talking to. After all, the two people Alana might have been able to call a friend by the end of the school year, Jared and Evan, now hated her and refused to talk to her.  
But Alana would get them back, she would show them that she was acting in the best interest of the Connor Project, and she would forgive them and maybe, just maybe she would not be alone. Maybe someone would message her. That would be nice.  
It would be okay, Alana told herself. It would work out. It would work out. It would.  
Alana started the car and drove to the library. Alana may lose her composure in her car,  
but Alana Beck was not late to her job.  
The drive to the library was oppressively silent. The clouds laid heavy on the earth,   
snuffing out the light of the sun and casting the city into shadow. It was rather depressing.  
However, Alana’s job at the library was guaranteed to be anything but that. Alana had gotten a job at the library just as school started. Originally she helped out the people who frequented it and organized its books, but her manager had come up to her one sunny afternoon and told her of a new program that would be starting up. The program would take kindergarteners who struggled with reading and give them a tutor to read books with them. Alana had immediately volunteered, and had since spent every Monday and Thursday reading with a little boy named Anthony.   
Anthony was a nice kid, very friendly and quite observant of Alana, which meant he would immediately pick up on her tension if she didn’t hide it well enough. When she pulled into the library’s parking lot, Alana grabbed her box of tissues and tried to dry any dampness from her eyes. She checked and double checked in the mirror and fixed a smile to her face. It was very believable. Alana seemed quite happy and assured.  
Alana left her car and slammed the door, and made sure it was locked before she went inside. When she first got her car, her mother had drilled it into her head to always lock it before leaving it.   
The library was a haven from troubled thoughts. The moment you entered it the quiet wrapped around you, stilling most anything that dogged your footsteps. Books lined its high walls, the carpet muffled any sounds, and you were always greeted by the scent of pages. Alana was comforted here. Nothing would bother her now.  
Anthony was waiting for her in the kid’s section, his round face lighting up as he saw her approaching. “Alana! I had a good day today, it was very productive.” He mangled the pronunciation of productive, but Alana’s face lit up as he said it. She was rubbing off on him.   
“I’m glad, Anthony. I also have had a productive day,” she lied through grinning teeth. “What book do you want to read?”  
“The fish one. Why are you tired Alana?”  
Alana thumbed through the kid’s books Anthony had laid out on the table and tried to come up with a convincing answer. “I had a bad night’s sleep, little A. It happens sometimes.” It was true, Alana supposed. She hadn’t slept much.   
“Are you lying to me Alana?”  
“Of course not. And keep your voice down, Anthony, this is a library.” Anthony nodded solemnly. He was such a precious child. “Okay, are you ready to read with me?” He nodded and sat, down expectant. They began to read the book.  
Alana and Anthony had built up a good rapport over months of reading together. They disagreed over some matters; Anthony wanted to reread the same books, while Alana insisted on diversity in his reading choices, so he could better improve; but they got along splendidly otherwise. If Alana thought about it, Anthony might be Alana’s first and only friend.   
One of the reasons Alana liked Anthony was because he was so affectionate. He hugged her when she left, he actually cared about how she was doing, and he even looked up to her. She was honored to be his role model.  
The hour passed too quickly for Alana’s taste. Too soon Anthony was hugging her tightly and promising to read with his grandmama at home, and then he was with his haggard grandmother and was walking through the front doors and then he was gone. Alana sat quietly in the kid’s section for a moment before she stood up and put the books on the rack.  
Alana was about to leave when a familiar brown bag caught her eye. Sitting next to it was its owner, who was glaring angrily at Alana.  
The sight of Zoe Murphy sitting in the library, staring at her sent shivers down Alana’s spine, as if she had seen a ghost. There was something viscerally disconcerting about seeing the sister of a dead kid sitting so plainly in the library, a place flooded by golden light.  
Yet around Zoe Murphy, the light seemed to die, and Alana couldn’t look away from her and all she heard was the thump of her heart like war drums in her chest.  
Alana picked up her bag and moved over to Zoe Murphy, fastening a polite smile onto her cheeks. It felt strained.  
“Zoe! Hi! I didn’t see you at school, were you sick? It was quite a busy day, well, for us seniors at least. I was just reading to my friend Anthony. He’s in kindergarten, and he’s such a precious little kid. He’s a bit -”  
“It was you, right?”  
“Um, excuse me?” Alana blinked at her.  
“Evan said you did it. You published his… the suicide note.”  
“Oh.” There was a knot in her stomach and an urge to throw up that hadn’t been there previously. “I had to do it, it was the-”  
“So you’re responsible right? For the death threats? For the reason everyone hates me, my family?” Zoe’s face was contorted in pain and anger, and voice seemed to carry in the typically protective quietness of the library.  
“Zoe, please, if you could keep your voice down-”  
“Why? Do you not want everyone to know that you ruined my life!”   
Heads turned to look at them as Zoe vaulted from her seat. Alana felt her blood pounding into her cheeks and her ears, and tried to ignore the throbbing of her skull.  
“Zoe, please-”  
“I can’t leave the house now without people staring at me! My mom won’t let me go to school because she thinks that I’m going to get beat up or something. Congratulations, you’ve ruined my life! And you still have the nerve to be totally fine.” Her eyes raked Alana’s body, her lips curling with revulsion. “Fuck you! Go rot in hell, Alana Beck!”  
Zoe grabbed her bag and stormed off before the librarian could shush her. Alana heard murmurs she was positive were not there before, and she knew it was about her. Her knees felt like they would slam into the ground at any moment and it took all of Alana’s strength to actually move. The library was not warm now, it was freezing, or perhaps that was just her. Her hands fumbled with the handle to the employee’s bathroom and all she felt was fire in her veins.  
She was wheezing on the floor of the employee bathroom, each inhalation sending daggers into her lungs. Her heartbeat echoed throughout her body, slamming against her skin, slamming against her skull and trying to tear its way out through her teeth. Sweat clung to her skin, her shirt sticking to back, her chest. She was completely severed reality, and all she could taste was the biting air.  
How perfect, she was dying in an employee’s bathroom after being shouted at by Zoe Murphy; Zoe Murphy whose life she had toppled with the release of Connor’s suicide note, who would gladly shove pokers into her heart in hell. The world around her was spinning from her grasp and if Alana was religious she might have tried to pray for absolution because she was going to go to hell. Instead she bit the inside of her cheek and waited for quietness or death to take her, trying to quiet the tempest of thoughts that whipped through her skull. She was a self-serving bitch, unable to do anything right, of course it made sense that no one would want her, she didn’t even want herself! Jared had the right idea with hating Alana; he was right, Zoe was right, and all Alana wanted to do was to vanish from existence, to bleed into nothingness.  
Then, slowly, Alana’s heartbeat faded from her veins, and her breathing evened out. She could feel her hands and her feet, the world stopped spinning, and her tears dried. Her clothing was stained with sweat and Alana smelled as if she had just ran a mile, but at least she wasn’t panicking in the bathroom anymore. She knew she should get up and leave the stall, but the door was too far away and Alana didn’t really want to anyway. At least in the bathroom Alana wouldn’t have to ward off prying eyes and ignore insidious whispers.  
Above her, the rain drummed against the roof. Sometime in the midst of her panic attack the clouds had finally gave way to a storm. Now there was thunder and rain around her, and the thump of the rain was all but welcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, can you say "Alana in the Bathroom?"  
> This was very draining to write, but so satisfying. I'm actually feeling kinda confident about this, especially the dialogue. Not the characterization. That I am still completely insecure about but what are you going to do except continue on forward.  
> I feel like Jared would be super guilty about the way he treated Evan after he reads his letter, so he's trying to make up for it by protecting him. Also, Zoe is just full of feelings and is probably transferring a lot of them onto Alana.   
> I can't write Jared well. But I'm gonna try anyway.   
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this update! Thanks for reading, tell me if I made any spelling or grammatical mistakes! And I hope you have a chill evening or afternoon or morning or whatever!


	3. Chapter Three

Stormclouds still hung over the city on Tuesday morning, pouring rain and transmuting dirt into mud. Wind lashed tree branches against Alana’s bedroom windows. The shadows of the branches crept into her room, blanketing her desk, her floors, and Alana where she lay on her bed, awake. She hadn’t been able to focus on her work the previous night, which led to her staying up into the early hours of dawn. Whatever little sleep she was getting had been abruptly broken by her alarm going off. She hadn’t had the strength to move from her position on her bed; she had barely been able to turn off her alarm without falling apart. Alana would have to start moving soon though, she knew she would have to. She had to see Evan, she had to go to school, she had to work on the Connor Project, even if she was exhausted.  
She bit her lip. The wind whipped against the windows.The shadows grew larger.  
Her phone buzzed on her nightstand.  
Alana’s eyes flickered over to her phone. She had no alarms, no reminders, and her parents wouldn’t text her this early. Which meant that someone had messaged her - of their own accord.  
Adrenaline shot through her veins, slowly giving her the energy to make sense of what that meant. She snatched her phone off her desk to see a notification from Twitter. She hurriedly opened the app, unwilling to let whoever was talking to her wait any longer.  
There was a small notification letting her know that someone had tweeted a post at her.  
Alana furrowed her brow and clicked on it.  
A video popped up on her screen.. Alana could recognize the familiar setting; the warm  
lights, the abundance of books, and the little brown school bag just barely visible by the camera angle. It was the library, the one where she had had the run-in with Zoe Murphy.  
A sense of dread crept up on Alana as her finger hovered over the play button. She had a suspicion of what it might be.  
Alana played the video. It showed Zoe Murphy shouting Alana down as everybody turned their head to see. Zoe’s finger was pointed accusatorily towards Alana, her teeth gritted together. Venom filled her voice as she spit at Alana, who looked remarkably calm. Zoe stormed out the room and Alana sped her way to the bathroom, the camera catching a glimpse of her composure fading. The cameraman gave a muffled, “Oh shit,” and then the video ended.  
Alana went to see the retweets. There were too many. It was viral.  
Her arm fell to her her side, her hand hanging off the edge of the bed. he phone slithered out of Alana’s hand and onto the floor. The wind slammed against the window. The branches were blown against it and Alana was plunged into darkness.

 

“High school is a battlefield.” That is what Alana’s mother had told her her first day of freshman year. Alana hadn’t believed her; she hadn’t believed her for three long years. Now, her words filled her head, and she knew her mother had been right.  
The second Alana had entered the cherished halls she felt all eyes turn towards her. Her classmates’ voices erupted, some of them mere whispers while others were more bold and instead shouted out their questions questions, interrogating her collectively. She was displayed for everyone to see and judge.  
Stay calm, Alana thought. Queasiness had filled her, but she would be fine. She would smooth the incident over, clear the Murphys name, and get Evan back, and then this entire mess would be behind her.  
A familiar voice called out her name and Alana turned towards the sound. “Hello Ethan!” She grinned at her classmate. Ethan Cottonfield was the local class clown, as well as a social leader of the senior class. She had helped him once with his English paper, and since they had been good acquaintances. “You wanted to know about Zoe and I, correct?”  
“Yeah, you got bitched at in the library by the Zoe Murphy and then ran off. What a bitch! She’s such an asshole - you didn’t deserve that, uh, Lola. It’s not your fault-”  
“It’s Alana, Alana Beck. You’re upset with Zoe? Not with me for publishing the suicide note that has led to her family receiving, well, to put it nicely, unsavory comments?”  
“Yeah, that’s what I just said, isn’t it?”  
“Of course. Well the Connor Project will be releasing a statement on the incident tonight at by six PM at the latest. Thank you for your concern, Ethan, but in the meantime, how about you tell your friends that Zoe and I have resolved the issue.”  
“Yeah, that’s definitely what I’m going to be talking about with my friends.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “See you, Lola!”  
“It’s Alana!” She called after him, but he was already talking with his friends down the hallway, and hopefully delivering Alana’s message.  
She had until six PM to come up with a viable statement for the Connor Project. Alana looked up at the clock. It read 7:49. That meant that Alana had twelve hours and eleven minutes to fix things with Zoe. If Alana could find Zoe at school, she might just be able to go to take care of this and get some sleep tonight as well. Of course, Zoe had said her parents weren’t letting her go to school, but surely she was exaggerating. No parent would keep their child from their education, right?  
Zoe didn’t show up at school.  
Seven hours and one minute later, the last bell rang and Alana bolted from her final class,  
not even waiting to wish the teacher a pleasant afternoon. She now had three hours and ten minutes to publish the official statement on the viral video, which had over five million views when she checked it at lunch. She was running out of time.  
Alana forced her way through the masses, smiling at acquaintances, waving at the custodial staff, doing her usual pleasantries. The walk to the front doors seemed to drag on for forever.  
Eventually, she did manage to get out of the building, hurry across the parking lot and plant herself in her car. Alana tossed her bag into the passenger seat and ran her hand through her hair. She could publish a statement without Zoe’s approval, but then Zoe would find it and contradict it, possibly cause up an even bigger stir, and Alana did not need any more controversy surrounding the Connor Project. She could postpone the statement, but that would be a sign of weakness to any college that was considering her as well as letting the video spiral even further out of control. That meant Alana only had one option.  
She buckled her car and drove to the Murphys.  
One of the reasons people were furious with the Murphys was because they had a fortune at their disposal and none of it went to help Connor. As Alana parked in front of the curb, she could tell where their money had gone.  
Alana had seen their house before, but it never failed to impress upon her just how rich the Murphys were. It was excessively grand, with immaculate white walls; pillars decorated the porch. Everything from the glinting roof to the manicured lawn was well-maintained. Two polished cars sat in the driveway, and though she knew barely anything about cars, she could tell that they were well-made and very expensive.  
For the second time that day, Alana’s mother’s words came floating into her mind. “The rich live within their means, Alana.” She studied the mansion before her. This was within their means?  
Alana parked her car. Without the rumble of the engine, the silence, only disrupted by the rain, was too intimidating. She had to go in; she had two and a half hours to get a statement out. That was two and a half hours she had to spend with Zoe Murphy who, quite rightly, hated her.  
Alana’s hands shook as she unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her umbrella. She would be fine. She could do this. She could do this. She could talk to Zoe Murphy.  
She hoped she could talk to Zoe Murphy.  
The walk to the front door was agonizingly slow. Why did rich people need such large front lawns? When she arrived at the front door, she could feel her heartbeat thrumming against her ribs. There was a brass knocker attached to its wood. She picked it up with a sweaty hand and, before she could doubt herself, she slammed it down on the door once, twice, three times, then dropped it as if it had burned her. The bangs echoed around her and Alana wiped her palms on her pants.  
For one painful moment, nothing happened. Was no one home? Perhaps the Murphys had a third car and had gone on a family outing in it, which meant Alana couldn’t talk to Zoe because of three years of being acquainted with her Alana still didn’t have her number. She was going to have to bullshit her way through a public statement for the Connor Project. When Zoe would find it she would undoubtedly tell people the truth, that Alana had published the suicide note without asking for the family’s permission, and the Connor Project and Alana would be ruined, alone. All because some idiot had the idea to video Zoe screaming down at Alana. Excellent.  
The door swung open and Alana nearly screamed.  
Mrs. Murphy was staring down at her. She was in silk pajamas and her eyes looked red as if she had been crying. She probably had, given the circumstances.  
“Oh, Alana, I wasn’t expecting you here. Put your umbrella there sweetie. Is there a video we were supposed to shoot or-”  
“No, Mrs. Murphy-”  
“Cynthia -”  
“Cynthia, I’m not here for a video. I’m actually here to talk to your daughter, Zoe?” Alana tried not to wince as she placed her umbrella on the coatrack. Of course Alana was talking about Zoe, the Murphys only had one kid now.  
“Zoe? Oh, um, she’s up in her bedroom. Do you know -”  
“Upstairs, first door on the right. Thank you Mrs. - Cynthia!” Mrs. Murphy stood aside for her and Alana entered the house with a smile plastered onto her face. Mrs. Murphy was a sweet, if somewhat passive, woman. She didn’t deserve the hate that the release of the suicide note had garnered. Mr. Murphy on the other hand…  
“Does Zoe know you are coming over?”  
“Oh, I actually planned to surprise her!” Alana gave Mrs. Murphy an award-winning smile. There was an awkward silence. “Well, I better go see her now; we have a lot to talk about.”  
“Have fun! If you need me, I’ll be…” Mrs. Murphy gestured vaguely to the house. “Here.” She let out a watery chuckle at the ambiguity of her statement.  
“I will be sure to call you if we do, Cynthia.” Alana waved goodbye and made her way to the staircase and up to the second floor.  
Alana had first visited the Murphys to shoot a video about Connor. It was an introductory thing; she and Evan had filmed the house, focusing particularly on the bedrooms. After all, studies showed that bedrooms reflected personalities. After getting some glamor shots, Alana had taken each Murphy into their bedrooms for a short interview. She had been going to Mr. and Mrs. Murphy’s bedroom when she had first passed by Zoe’s bedroom door. She had been distinctly unsettled by it. It had been decorated in stars and music notes, which would have been quite pleasant if it hadn’t been for the fact that there were dents covering it from where her brother had smashed his fist into the wood.It had left a sour feeling in her stomach when she first saw it, and it left a sour feeling in her now as she stood in front of it, tracing the concaves embedded in it. Despite all of their wealth, the Murphys still hadn’t replaced it. That was the only thing that disturbed Alana more than the dents themselves.  
Alana withdrew her hand, shaking herself back into the present. She had two hours and fourteen minutes to reach an agreement with Zoe and publish a statement. She could do this.  
Alana knocked on the door, holding her breath.  
A moment later, ig was yanked open and a disheveled Zoe Murphy appeared. “What do you -” Zoe stopped mid-sentence, her narrowed eyes taking in Alana. Alana found that she could not open her mouth, much less speak, as Zoe judged her.  
“Why are you here? To screw me over some more?” IThere was still a hint of yesterday’s fury in her voice, but it had been diffused by tiredness. Alana related to that. She hadn’t been sleeping much.  
“I am actually here to talk about yesterday!” Alana smiled, trying to cover up how terrified she was. “Can I come in? Thank you!” Alana pushed her way past Zoe and into her room. It was large, with a plush twin bed and many possessions and clothes strewn over the floor. Zoe mumbled something under her breath as she closed the door behind them.  
“As I am sure you know, there was a video posted this morning that showed our… disagreement in the library. This has attracted negative attention to your family -” Zoe scoffed, “- and the Connor Project. I was hoping we could discuss what happened yesterday and come up with a solution to this dilemma.”  
Zoe moved past Alana and sat down on her bed. “Of course you want to talk about the video,” she muttered.  
“Well, why else would I come here? I haven’t emailed your family about you appearing  
for a video, and we aren’t the closest of acquaintances.”  
“You could have come here to apologize! Don’t you have any decency? Look what you’ve  
done to my family! My mom won’t stop crying, my dad is trying to get me a bodyguard - I can’t even go to school now! Do you even care about how much you messed up my family?”  
“Of course I do! And a great way to fix it would be to put out a public statement on the -”  
“Connor Project. Is that all you care about?”  
“Don’t you care about remembering your brother?”  
“My brother was an ass who wanted me dead! Why would I care about him?”  
“Connor didn’t want you dead. He talked about you with Evan all the time remember? And in his suicide note-”  
“I know what he said in his suicide note! That doesn’t mean it’s true.”  
“Why wouldn’t it be?”  
Zoe looked up at Alana. Her eyes were suddenly wet and Alana couldn’t hold eye contact. She was miserable. “No reason. So what do you want from me? Why are you here?”  
“I want to release a statement that will smooth over the damage this video has caused to your family and the Connor Project.” Alana reiterated.  
“Do you really think that will work?”  
Alana bit her lip. “It’s the best option we have.”  
Zoe sighed, then sat down on her bed and pulled open her laptop. She patted a spot across from her. “Sit down.”  
Alana planted herself on the bed and turned the laptop so both of them could see it. Alana felt a wave of relief as she realized she had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she had left all her supplies in her car. Zoe pulled up the Connor Project. As Alana had expected, the page had been getting more hits and comments denouncing the Murphy family and, on occasion, Alana. She felt queasy again.  
“So what’s your plan for this statement thing?” Zoe asked.  
“Well, I was thinking we could resolve matters and then let the community know.”  
“I forgive you. There. Matter resolved. Just type up a statement and go.”  
“What? You forgive me? Just like that?” Alana’s hands were clammy again and her brow furrowed in confusion.  
“Just like that.”  
Alana took in Zoe Murphy. For a girl who gave her a panic attack, she didn’t seem threatening, just hollow. She was sixteen and she couldn’t go to school because she was receiving death threats because Alana had published the suicide note. Regret rose like bile in the back of her throat.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… how do you say… ruin your life. I was just trying to do what was best for the Connor Project.”  
“I -”  
“And I know that apologizing doesn’t fix anything, but I’m going to try to. I promise. I am going to fix your family’s reputation if it’s the last thing I do.”  
“I already forgave you.”  
“I know.”  
Alana averted her eyes from Zoe’s and looked at the laptop instead as she opened her account. She could feel Zoe staring at her, studying her, examining her. It wasn’t the same antagonizing glare as she had given her in the library; it seemed more curious and less hostile.  
“...Thank you, Alana. Um, sorry for shouting at you in the library. That was totally not cool.” She let out an awkward chuckle and Alana made herself look up at her. Zoe’s eyes were still wet, but she had a small smile that eased the tension in the room.  
“It’s okay. I deserved it.”  
“Yeah, but I was still an ass.” Zoe picked at her comforter and Alana looked at her for slightly too long. Zoe was nice, when she wasn’t yelling at Alana in a library. She could get used to the amiability.  
“Um, your statement.”  
“Right!” Alana turned back to the laptop, her hands drifting over the keys. Slowly, she began to type.  
The Connor Project and Murphy family are on affable terms. The recent disagreement concerning Connor’s suicide note has been resolved. The Connor Project fully supports the Murphy family.  
It was terrible. Alana backspaced and tried again.  
The Connor Project acknowledges the recent video concerning-  
That was worse. Alana deleted it.  
We, the Connor Project would like to acknowledge the community’s overwhelming support concerning the release of the suicide note. We would also like to let the community know that the Connor Project fully supports the Murphys and wishes them the best of luck through this period of grief.  
That would do. Her finger hovered over the publish button before she realized that Zoe should approve it as well. “How about this?” Alana turned the laptop towards Zoe.  
She took the laptop and read the statement. “Yeah, it’s good.”  
“Good.” Alana published it and handed the laptop back to Zoe. “Thanks for letting me use your laptop. I had forgotten mine in my car.”  
“It’s no big.”  
Alana stood up and turned to face Zoe. She sighed. “Well, I guess I should be going.”  
“Yeah, but I mean, you could stay a bit longer, if you wanted.”  
Alana grinned at her. “I’d like that, actually. Thanks.” She moved to sit down on the bed when her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. “Hold on, I better get this. It’s-” Alana looked at the caller. “My dad.”  
Alana answered the phone hurriedly. Her dad was off work by now and he knew she would be home on Tuesdays. He would be terrified. “Hey dad, I was-”  
“Alana Beck, come home this instant! I come home to an empty house and no note; you haven’t texted me, you haven’t called, do you know how worried I am? My daughter vanishes into thin air without telling me!”  
“I’m at a friend’s house dad. I forgot to tell you, I’m sorry, but we’re completely-”  
“Get over here, Alana. We need to talk about this.”  
“Of course, dad. I’ll be over there as soon as possible.”  
The phone call ended and Alana turned to Zoe. “I have to go home, my dad wants to talk to me. Thank you for the offer though! I was really looking forward to hanging out with you.”  
“It’s cool. Hope things go okay with your dad; he seems pissed.”  
“Oh he’s just worried about me. He’s kind of overprotective.”  
“Yeah, I get that. My dad’s keeping me on house arrest now, like he cares.”  
“You don’t think your dad cares about you?”  
“Not enough.” Zoe seemed to realize what she said. “Shit, that makes me sound so spoiled doesn’t it? Like, at least he’s nicer to me than he was to Connor. He was such a dick to him. It’s probably one of the reasons why he-” Zoe stopped, gulping and looking down at her comforter again.  
“Why he killed himself,” Alana supplied. Alana furrowed her brow and studied Zoe. She took a breath. “I know it’s not my place, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can talk to me. Here, let me give you my number.”  
There was a small stack of pink post-it notes on Zoe’s nightstand. Alana took one and quickly wrote down her number, trying to even her breathing. Whenever she had tried to reach out to people, they never seemed to want her. It was probably naive of Alana to still be trying to make actual friends when she seemed incapable of it, but she was inadvertently responsible for Zoe Murphy’s current condition of house arrest. She owed it to her. Besides, Zoe Murphy didn’t deserve everything she had been through; the dents in her door, her brother’s suicide, the threats. It was the least she could do.  
“Here you go.” Alana gave the post-it to Zoe.  
“Thanks. I’ll text you later.” Zoe shot her a smile..  
“It’s no problem. Have a good day, Zoe!”  
“You too.”  
Alana smiled at her before leaving her room and closing the door. That had gone better than expected. She had managed to smooth things over with Zoe Murphy, release the statement on time, and even make an acquaintance. Perhaps they could even become close acquaintances.  
Then Alana remembered why she was leaving in the first place. She ran down the stairs, nearly barreling into Mrs. Murphy, who had a small tray of cookies in her hands. “I was just coming up to-”  
“I actually have to leave, Mrs. Murphy, but thank you for being such a gracious host! Your daughter was wonderful as always.”  
“It’s my pleasure, Alana. Would you like a cookie before you leave?”  
“Oh.” A quivering smile had formed on Mrs. Murphy’s face as she held out the plate of deserts towards Alana. “Sure. Thank you, Mrs. Murphy.” She took a cookie.  
“Cynthia, darling.” Her eyes drifted up the stairs before they focused on Alana. “Well, I hope you two had fun. It’s so nice to have company over.” Her voice trailed off, and Alana realized it must be unbearably lonely to be locked in this mansion when the world hates you. Alana had accidentally caused the world to hate her.  
“I know it isn’t worth much, Cynthia, but I’m sorry about the bad press you have received since the suicide note was released.”  
“Th-thank you, Alana.” Her words seemed to have moved Mrs. Murphy to tears. Her shoulders began to shake and tears welled up in her eyes. “After the um, the - the letter was published, I’ve just been feeling so alone. I just - I miss my son.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault sweetie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
“Still.”  
The cookie tray clattered to the floor and Mrs. Murphy surged forward, wrapping her arms around Alana as she sobbed into her shoulder. “Th-thank you, for the - the Connor Project. I’m just glad that someone - someone still cares about him.”  
Alana wrapped her arms hesitantly around Mrs. Murphy. “I’m not the only one who cares about Connor still. Evan cares.” Her words brought a new tide of tears that cascaded on Alana’s shoulder. “Jared does. The entire Connor Project community and staff does. We aren’t forgetting him anytime soon.” Alana patted Mrs. Murphy’s back. “I promise, your son will be remembered through the orchard.”  
Her words didn’t seem to help. The two stood there, Alana holding Mrs. Murphy, Mrs. Murphy crying desperately into Alana. Alana held her breath and waited for Mrs. Murphy to release her.  
With one last sob Mrs. Murphy removed herself from Alana. She heaved a sigh and took Alana by her shoulders, looking down at her. She looked poised to say something, but then her eyes glanced down and she saw the scattered remains of cookies. “Oh shit. I guess I’m going to have to bake some new ones.” She let out a watery chuckle and bent down to pick them up. Alana crouched down and began to help as well.  
“Oh, thank you dear,” Mrs. Murphy said as the two scooped up the cookies.  
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Murphy.”  
“Alana, I would appreciate it if you could keep my…” she pursed her lips. “Breakdown, I guess, between us. I don’t want Zoe knowing. I’m trying to be strong, for her. Oh, and what a fabulous job I’m doing, aren’t I? I can’t even entertain a single guest without crying on them.” Mrs. Murphy eyed Alana’s shirt, which was damp at the shoulder.  
Alana patted Mrs. Murphy in an attempt to be reassuring. “You’re doing the best you can, Mrs. Murphy. That’s what really matters.”  
“Thank you, Alana.” The two women straightened up, Mrs. Murphy holding the cookies. “I won’t keep you any longer. Feel free to stop by anytime.”  
Alana remembered what she had said about feeling alone after the suicide note was published. “I will. Have a good day, Mrs. Murphy.”  
“You too Alana.”  
They smiled at each other before Alana turned and went out the front door, grabbing her umbrella and leaving the shaken Mrs. Murphy behind her. Despite the storm, the air outside was lighter and fresher than Alana remembered it, and she was suddenly very grateful to be out of the house.  
Alana made her way over to her car and got in, flopping down and nibbling on the cookie. Then she buckled up and drove to her house, where her father was angrily awaiting her.

Alana’s father was waiting for her at the dinner table. He stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, frowning disapprovingly at her. He had his laptop open on the table. There was a video playing on the screen.  
“We have a lot to talk about young lady.”  
“I know dad, I can explain. I was at-”  
“Not that. What is this?” He turned the laptop around so Alana could see the video on the screen. As soon as Alana saw it, she knew what it was. It was the video of her and Zoe at the library. The view count had doubled. “I was scrolling through FaceBook after I called you when this appeared on my dash. What is going on, Alana? Did you know about this? Why haven’t you told me?”  
“It’s nothing, dad. Zoe was just upset about the bad publicity her family had been getting after the release of the suicide note.”  
“What bad publicity? What haven’t you been telling me Alana?”  
“Dad, I really can’t explain right now, I really have to go do my homework-”  
“No! You are going to sit down and we are going to talk about what the hell has been going on with you.” He sat down and gestured to the chair across from him. Reluctantly, Alana crossed the room and lowered herself into the seat, setting her bag down beside her.  
“Now, let’s start with this bad publicity. What happened?”  
Alana sighed. “I published Connor’s suicide note to meet the deadline for the orchard. Afterwards, the Murphy family got a lot of bad press. People were blaming them for Connor’s death. So then I was at the library yesterday tutoring Anthony when Zoe showed up and got mad at me and, well, you saw the video. Then I saw the video this morning and-”  
“Wait, you’ve known about this since the morning? Why didn’t you tell your mother and me?”  
Alana thought for a moment. “It never occurred to me, I guess.”  
“It should have. We are there for you no matter what, Alana. A viral video with this girl, Zoe Murphy, yelling at you… that’s a lot of pressure. We’re here to help you Alana. That’s what family does.”  
“I know dad, but I really don’t need help. After school I went over to Zoe’s and we talked it over and now we have released a public statement about the video that we both agree on, so everything’s cool.”  
Her father gave her a hard look. “Alana, you don’t need to do everything alone. Asking for help is not weakness.”  
“Of course not; I just don’t need help.”  
Her father furrowed his brow at her, but he let the subject go. “Okay. I want you to tell me next time something like this happens.”  
“Of course!” Alana made to leave.  
“And Alana,” her father said, halting her. “Call me before you go somewhere. You worried me.”  
Alana nodded quickly. “Of course! Talk to you later dad!” She grabbed her bag and stole upstairs before he could call her back down again.

That night was especially long. The storm still hadn’t lightened up by the time her parents had called her down to dinner, where they had discussed Alana’s recent behavior more insistently. By the time she had escaped to her bedroom the sun had fallen and rain was still pounding against her window. She had barely managed to complete her homework as she was constantly checking the Connor Project for responses to the statement. It seemed to have cooled things off, for now. The Murphys were still the subject of scrutiny, but not so violently.  
But even after her homework had been finished and she had double and triple checked her Twitter, Alana still couldn’t sleep. Evan Hansen was plaguing her thoughts. She couldn’t stop worrying about him. Did he hate her? Could she get him back? She needed him back. She needed him back. She needed him back. Alana needed Evan.  
That was the last thought that sat on Alana’s mind before she fell asleep at her desk, slumped over her keyboard, the computer screen displaying her Twitter, and it left a bitter, pathetic feeling in her stomach that stayed with her throughout her small respite from her troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Your girl is back again with a behemoth by my standards. Let me know if there's any spelling mistakes, your thoughts, just really, tell me what's on your mind. Hope you enjoyed!  
> Oh and I think I put a Hamilton and For Forever reference in there.  
> Happy pride month!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: negative self-talk, meanness

It felt as though only a heartbeat had passed before Alana’s eyes startled open, the harsh beeping of her alarm screeching at her from her nightstand. She lurched from her hunched position at her desk, her feet tangling beneath her, and fell to the ground in a heap, her glasses bouncing from her nose and landing inches in front of her face.  
“Ow.” She took her glasses, scrambled off the floor, and staggered over to her phone and turned off her alarm. The room fell into silence.  
Alana pushed her glasses back onto her nose as she stood, gently swaying, in her room. Grogginess clouded her mind, shaking her from her typical discipline. She had to something to do today, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. What did she have to do today? It was important, she knew that. It was something that she had to do…  
“School!” A shock zipped down Alana’s spine as she ran to her closet and hastily put on a simple outfit; a navy dress with glossy black shoes. She snatched her unzipped backpack off of her desk and took her phone from her nightstand before wheeling down the stairs and into the downstairs bathroom.  
The mirror was still accumulating grunge and Alana scolded herself for not cleaning it yesterday. She was too lazy to do anything right. No wonder Evan left her.  
Evan! His name sent a second shock down her spine. She had to talk to him today, before it was too late and everything spiraled even further from Alana’s control. She couldn’t let people see she was alone, because then the Connor Project would fail and no college would accept her. She would be homeless and alone and her parents would be ashamed, her teachers would be ashamed, Michelle Obama would be ashamed, and Alana would be ashamed and she would just disappear - like she was right now because the mirror had too much toothpaste congealed onto it for Alana to see herself clearly.  
Alana brushed her teeth and ran out of the bathroom, her backpack banging against her back with every stride. She wrenched open the front door and ran into the pouring rain. It was still storming, the rain soaking her dress and her socks. Covering her head with her hands, Alana sped towards her car and opened the passenger seat door, crawled inside, and slammed it shut behind her. She shrugged her backpack off, accidentally ramming her elbow into the car door, and maneuvered herself into a more comfortable position. Her breaths came sharp and uneven through her parted, slightly chapped lips. Cold sunk into her bones and the wet fabric clung to her skin. It was not the weather to wear a dress.  
Her eyes skipped down to her open backpack. The rain had splattered her homework and supplies. Alana couldn’t turn in her work now. It was ruined. Everything was ruined.  
Her bottom lip trembled like a child’s and Alana bit down on it. She wasn’t crying in her car. Alana was not crying in her car.  
“I’m not crying in my car,” she whispered. Alana tugged her glasses off and wiped the droplets off the lenses before she clambered over into the driver’s seat. She drove to school in silence.  
Everyone else had dressed more sensibly than her, Alana thought as she pulled into the student parking lot. They all wore thick sweaters and long pants with sturdy footwear, except for one senior named Katie who had grown up in Wisconsin and had seemed to develop an immunity to the cold. She was skipping around in shorts and a T- shirt, carefully shielded from the rain by her umbrella.  
Dread curdled in Alana’s stomach. “I can do this,” she muttered as she unbuckled herself and zipped up her school bag, stuffed her phone into her dress’ pocket and rushed out into the rain. Her feet splashed through puddles and Alana swore she saw people shoot covert glances at her as she made her way calmly to the school doors, her feet occasionally tripping over nothing. Her glasses were dotted with rain by the time Alana entered the halls of the school. She wiped them clean on the hem of her skirt and averted her eyes from the crowd as she made her way to her locker.  
Everyone was watching her. She could feel their collective gaze burning into her back, taking in her bedraggled appearance. They whispered about her. A group of freshmen gave a little laugh that made Alana flush. They were laughing at her.  
“Alana!” A voice broke Alana from her apprehensive trance. It was Katie. She smiled at her, her umbrella stuffed haphazardly into her bag. “Hey, you don’t mind the cold either?” Katie’s hands gestured towards Alana’s attire.  
Alana fixed a smile to her face and tried to ignore how her heart was ramming against her chest. “Oh, no, the cold is nice. It helps you wake up in the morning, you know. I read in an article from -”  
“Hey, I was wondering if you could give me your English notes? I was absent - I got a flu. My mom says it was because I don’t bundle up, but I honestly just think that some bug is going around here.”  
“Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear you were sick. When I was in fifth -”  
“Yeah, so notes?”  
“Oh, of course. Just let me -” Alana slung her backpack off her shoulder and opened it. Her fingers flicked through to find her English notebook. She had taken it home so she could study her notes.  
Alana produced a red notebook from her bag. It was wet at the top, but otherwise fine. “Here you go.”  
Katie snatched it from her hand. “Thanks Alana! You’re a lifesaver.”  
“Of course. If you want I can help you study for finals after school, or maybe during the weekend - I’m a very busy person, what with the Connor Project and all. And Evan! Evan and I do a lot of work together, but I would be totally up for helping you study. You know, when I was in eighth grade, my English teacher said I had an excellent grasp of Socratic dialogue, so I’m really good at helping people understand new material.”  
“Uh, no, that’s okay. Thank you though -”  
“It would be no trouble, really! So I’ll meet you at the library on Sunday, at ten?”  
“Um, sure, Alana. I’ll be there!”  
“That’s great! I can give you my number and -”  
“No, no that’s okay. Thanks for the notes, Alana.” Katie gave her a tight smile and left before Alana could respond.  
“It - it was my pleasure,” she muttered after her, blinking at how her eyes stung as she watched the redhead dart down the hall. The warning bell rung out and Alana indolently pulled herself into motion.  
Most of the teachers at Alana’s high school were good at their job. Ms. Kingston, the chemistry teacher, was a little stuffy but accommodating. Mr. Burt taught World History, and was overtly jovial and prone to tangents, but no one could deny his class was interesting. The only teacher Alana actively disliked was the shriveled and pessimistic Mr. Roberts. He was an aging man with the countenance of a plucked chicken; the only hair on his body was a single strand on his head that he kept carefully gelled back, as though it might misbehave.  
Mr. Roberts was loathed by every student who took his class for being insulting and denigrating. He berated his students for every wrong to the point of reducing them to tears. He had been known to call his class a “group of degenerates with the realism of a kindergartener,” and tell students that any bright future they might have was the product of misguided hope. However, every complaint the students filed was ignored. His nephew was the principal, and this resulted in Mr. Roberts of having the privilege of being as mean as he wanted to without consequence. His continued employment at the school was enough to make a case against nepotism in Alana’s mind.  
Mr. Roberts’ was also her last class of the day, and Alana couldn’t repress the sense of foreboding that sat heavily in her stomach. Mr. Roberts disliked all of his students equally, but he had always been particularly keen on degrading Alana. She had never purposely angered him; she had been a model student, in fact, despite his cruel treatment. She was always prepared for class, never disrupted his lectures, and always got good grades. Yet whenever his eyes spotted Alana, his lips would turn downward in disgust.  
Her heart only sank further as she entered his classroom. Mr. Roberts was dressed sharply, as usual. He had a blue tie over his off-white button-up, and his grey slacks were held up by a sturdy leather belt. As soon as Alana walked in, his eyes found hers and he frowned at her, muttering. Alana’s cheeks paled as she hurried to the front row and took her seat and set up her supplies.  
Five minutes later, the bell rang and Mr. Roberts began to take role. “Adamms?”  
“Here.”  
“Banner?”  
“Here.”  
“Beck?”  
“Here!”  
“Of course you are. Franklin?”  
“H-here.”  
Alana clenched her jaw and tapped her pencil on the desk, ignoring the irritation and nervousness seething inside of her. Mr. Roberts was always unpleasant, but today he seemed to be in a particularly bad mood. He usually kept his snide remarks to himself during attendance, but today he seemed like he was taking more pleasure than usual in belittling her.  
Mr. Roberts finished roll and began his lesson. As he began his lecture on the symbolism of Dracula in Stoker’s novel, Alana turned to open her notebook when she remembered she had loaned it to Katie. With a chagrined snort, she quickly took out a piece of loose leaf paper and began to scrawl down her notes. Despite his abominable personality, Mr. Roberts was a competent teacher. He knew the subject well and it showed as he began to detail different scholars’ opinions on what Dracula personified. He was exploring Craft’s interpretations of Dracula when Alana finally caught his displeasing eye.  
“What’s this, Beck?”  
“What’s what, Mr. Roberts?” Alana reluctantly met his watery eyes.  
“Where is your notebook? Is the notorious Beck actually unprepared for class?” A sneer had transformed Mr. Roberts’ face from something ugly to something wretchedly repulsive.  
“Oh, I’m actually not unprepared, Mr. Roberts, I just lent my notebook to a student who needed some notes -”  
“And why would you bother to lend your notebook to some student who certainly didn’t do anything for you in return? Hmmm?”  
“I lent her my notes because it was the right thing -”  
“No, you lent her your notes because you’re a lonely, pathetic little girl who can’t stand the thought of being alone!” He snapped, slamming his hand on his desk to make the whole class jump. “Grow up, Alana; loneliness is the only thing that’s guaranteed. Get used to it.”  
Alana adjusted her glasses and tightened her grip on her pencil. “Yes, Mr. Roberts.”  
“Oh, tell me what I want to hear when you actually believe it, Beck.” Mr. Roberts cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the board. “Now where was I? Right, Craft. He believed Dracula was made to represent Victorian anxiety over gender roles…”  
Mr. Roberts continued to lecture without interruption and Alana tried to concentrate on his words instead of the eyes that were staring at her, taking in her inflamed cheeks and wet eyes. The time passed sluggishly, but finally the bell rang and Alana sped out the door with diminished relief.  
“He’s a disgusting, vile old man,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way down the hall. “Who shouldn’t even be a teacher. He should just - ooh! - resign before he dies.” She burst out into the open air with a flood of students, all looking equally grateful to finally be free from class.  
“Alana!” A finger tapped on her shoulder and Alana wheeled around to see Katie smiling cheerily at her, her notebook in her hand. “Here’s your notebook. Thanks for letting me borrow it. I heard Mr. Roberts really ripped you a new one in English?”  
“Oh, um, yeah, he was a bit rude to me. But I’m fine! Thank you for giving me my notes back.”  
“Yep! So he called you a pathetic loser?”  
“Oh - no he didn’t call me a loser, actually. He was just -”  
“But he called you pathetic?”  
“Why -”  
“Cool! Bye Alana!”  
Katie skipped out into the rain, her feet landing in puddles and sloshing up her bare calves. Alana stared after her as she hopped into her car and drove off, most likely blasting Carly Rae Jespen or something else sickeningly upbeat.  
“Move!” A boy slammed into Alana’s shoulder and she fell to the ground, her hands flashing out to catch her fall.  
Someone laughed and Alana ground her teeth together and pushed herself up, blinking furiously as she fixed her glasses and turned around and walked back into the school. She pushed through the crowd of students, who turned their heads to look at her as she walked by - what was she doing? Why was she going back into the school? What a freak. She knew they were looking at her, thinking about her, laughing at her. Their warm bodies pressed against Alana as if they were one collective being that had swallowed her whole. Her hand covered her mouth as she shoved her way through the scrawny freshmen and burly seniors, trying to find someplace to hide, but the crowd seemed to stretch infinitely. Alana could hear her pulse in her ears as she used her free hand to push people out of her way until she finally burst out of the sea of students and ran into the girl’s bathroom at the end of the hall. The bathroom door swung shut with a clang and Alana was alone, just like Mr. Roberts had said she would be.  
Alana took her hand from her mouth and a strangled cry came out. It was the disgusting sort of sound a doe with a slit throat would make. Waves of heat seemed to slam into her skin as her fingers curled into her palms, picking at the rocks embedded in her hands. Her uneven breaths came faster and faster until Alana stumbled over to the sink and turned it on and shoved her hands desperately under. The water was cooling, and Alana did her best to focus on it, on the way it ran in rivulets over her palms, falling into the wrinkles on her knuckles and dripping into the basin from her fingertips. It made a small tinkling sound as the water hit the porcelain. Her fingers moved over the rocks stuck in her palms and picked them out. They fell into the sink with a small clatter that seemed to reverberate throughout the bathroom.  
“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…” Alana murmured, slowing her breathing. She glanced up at her reflection. She really did look like a loser. Her eyes were shadowed and red; her face had gotten blotchy from embarrassment. Perhaps Mr. Roberts knew her better than she thought he did. “He’s right. I am pathetic and alone. Why doesn’t anyone want me?”  
She stared into the mirror as if it was enchanted. If she concentrated hard enough, maybe a masked face would appear and tell her how she drives away any possible friends. But the mirror stayed blank and unremarkable, and a voice uncannily similar to Mr. Roberts’ suddenly piped up from the back of her mind. Quit your whining and go do something, Beck. Don’t you have a schedule to keep? The voice held a jibe, but it was the truth. Alana had to see Evan. It was the only way to avoid even more controversy surrounding the Connor Project.  
Alana ripped her gaze from the mirror and turned off the tap. She gave a breathy sigh and then pushed her way out the bathroom and down the now empty hallway. The sound of her hurried footsteps bounced off the walls, possessing enough confidence that it could have easily belonged to a high-heeled executive.  
Through the panes of the school’s doors, Alana could see the rain still steadily drizzling onto the pavement. The storm was unrelenting, much to her displeasure. She pushed open the school doors open and jogged to her car, her hands shielding her hair. By the time Alana jumped in her car she was shivering.  
Alana turned on the heater and put her backpack in the passenger seat before swinging out of the parking lot and starting down on the familiar path to Evan’s house. Most of the meetings for the Connor Project were held there due to the absence of people. In her spare time, Alana had often wondered how lonely Evan was before the Connor Project. Yes, he had Connor - and Jared, to an extent - but he must have felt so alone in that house with only himself for company. Alana didn’t blame Ms. Hansen for her absence in the slightest; from what Evan had told her, Ms. Hansen did what she had to do to keep her family afloat. It was quite admirable, in Alana’s opinion. She cared so much for her son, but it still didn’t erase that Evan had to spend most of his time alone.  
That was the last thought on her mind when Alana turned onto Hummingbird Drive and spotted the Hansens’ small brown house. It had a homely look, which is to say the lawn was overgrown and the white accents were yellowed with age. Evan wasn’t one for the upkeep and Ms. Hansen was too tired to do much of anything after working. In fact, Ms. Hansen would be working right now, which was convenient for Alana because she didn’t want her first encounter with the woman to be her demanding Evan come back to the Connor Project.  
Yet despite the fact that Ms. Hansen was at work, the Hansens’ driveway was not empty. Instead a stained silver sedan with a “mothman is my boyfriend” sticker on the bumper was parked neatly in it.  
Alana glanced away from the car and continued to drive down Hummingbird, past the Hansens’, past the Hansens’ neighbors, and took the first turn she came upon and parked so she could still see the ominous sedan easily.  
The car clearly belonged to Jared. Alana had seen it parked on the curb outside Evan’s house enough times to recognize it on sight. However, all of those occasions were because of the Connor Project, which Evan was no longer affiliated with. Jared had no reason to be here, but that was undoubtedly his car, and no one drove Jared’s car except Jared.  
Jared was Evan’s family friend, which Alana had understood to be code for “I don’t actually care about you.” Jared had always treated Evan as such. He bribed him, teased him, and only hung out with him when he was required to. It had irritated Alana. She knew what it was like to be alone, but she figured it was worse when the one person who had to hang out with you didn’t even want to be there.  
Now, Jared did want to be there; or so it seemed. He had changed ever since Alana had published the suicide note. He had confronted Alana about it in the halls, told her off for disregarding Evan’s position as vice-president and even said he was more than his family friend now. He lived up to his word; he was hanging out with Evan after school.  
The rain disturbed Alana from her reverie long enough for her to see Jared leave the house and make his way to his car with a quick wave to someone inside. A minute later and he was pulling out of the driveway, driving up Hummingbird and back towards the school.  
Alana stayed in the car, her eyes fixed on the spot where Jared’s car had turned and disappeared into suburbia. His words from Monday rang around her head. “I don’t want to see you near him, I don’t want you talking to him, you’re going to be leaving Evan alone, you got that?” Her fingers began to tap a nervous pattern on her steering wheel. Jared would kill her if he found out Alana was here, but the Connor Project would fall apart with Evan. She needed him. She had to come get him.  
Something buzzed at Alana and she jumped up against her seatbelt before realizing it was a notification from her phone. She hastily took it in her hand to catch a text from an unfamiliar number.  
Hey it’s zoe. This is alana, right?  
Alana gave a wide smile before remembering why she was parked near the Hansens’. As much as Alana was overjoyed to have Zoe talk to her, she couldn’t start a conversation right before she visited Evan. Alana held the phone in her hand and watched the screen go black before putting it down and beginning to drive back up Hummingbird. Alana pulled over by the sidewalk in front of Evan’s house and parked.  
The sound of rain rushed over her and Alana tried to focus on its melodic pounding. She worried her lip and tried to ignore the sudden agitation that overcame her. Everything for the Connor Project rested on getting Evan back - for just one month.  
She had to do this. The Connor Project needed Evan. She had to have him for just one month.  
Alana took a deep breath and got out of her car. Her hands shielded her hair from the rain until she was safely under the awning. The temperature had dropped during the drive; she shivered slightly as she stood before the front door. Alana hastily wiped her glasses before knocking.  
The door swung open almost instantly, revealing a red-eyed Evan with a furrowed brow. “Did you forget something, Jar-”  
Evan’s mouth dropped open when he saw Alana. He stared at her, speechless, his eyes wide with surprise. Alana ignored his shock and began her proposal. “Evan! It’s so nice to see you! How have you been? I’ve been great. I’m here to talk to you about the Connor Project.” Without waiting for an invitation, Alana walked around the still nonplussed Evan and into the house. Evan continued to stand there, staring at the empty porch, before realizing Alana wasn’t there anymore and quietly closed the door. He turned around to face her, his back hunched in on himself as if Alana was going to attack him.  
“Um - hi, I mean - uh - wh-what are you doing here?” He seemed very occupied with the flooring with how he stared at it.  
“I’m here to talk to you about the Connor Project.”  
“Oh, you said that - sorry, that was stupid - you said that, but - but I q-quit. Remember? We talked about it last weekend?”  
“Yes, but I’m here to change your mind. The Connor Project needs you now more than ever, Evan. I apologize for releasing the suicide note without your permission - I don’t understand why you didn’t want me to, but he was your friend and I should have waited for your confirmation before proceeding. I wouldn’t do it again. But now that -” Alana broke off. Evan had raised his eyes to her face and was staring intensely, his mouth slightly open in disconcertion. “Are you okay, Evan?”  
“Wh-what? Oh yeah, I was staring - sorry, but - it’s just - um - are you okay? Alana? You just -you don’t look too well - I’m not saying you look bad! Just - you look - I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything -”  
“It’s okay,” Alana said, forcing a placating smile back onto her face. She remembered her reflection in the bathroom and how pathetic she had looked. Apparently it was noticeable enough to others that the doggedly polite Evan Hansen had felt compelled to point it out. “I’m fine, but thank you for asking! Anyways, back to the Connor Project. I know you said that you couldn’t do it anymore and that I shouldn’t have published the suicide note, but I want you to know that I know now to never do anything like that again! You can totally trust me.”  
Evan still had that look of concern welded onto his face. “Are - are you sure?”  
“Sure about what? That you can trust me?”  
“No, not that - um- sure about - no I’m sorry it’s stupid, forget I said anything, nevermind - just, sorry.”  
“Well, okay then. So, are you going to rejoin the Connor Project?”  
Evan’s eyes fixated on the floor again and he began to rub circles on the hardwood with a socked foot. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his pajama shirt; he seemed to be steeling himself; he took a deep breath and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. They were gentle and nervous. “I - I can’t. I’m sorry.”  
A vice wrapped around Alana’s chest. “I know that the suicide note -” Alana began.  
“It’s not the suicide note! It’s just - I -”  
“Well what is it, Evan? Tell me and I can fix it! Is it the negative attention the Murphys have been getting lately? I’m taking care of that! Zoe isn’t mad at you -”  
“Zoe’s not the problem! Besides, we’re not - together - anymore, anyway.”  
Alana blinked at him. “You broke up with Zoe?”  
“Something like that. Listen that’s not the point, the point is I’m not - I’m not doing the Connor Project anymore -”  
“Well why aren’t you?”  
“Wh-what?”  
“Why aren’t you doing the Connor Project anymore? You said that it’s not the letter and it’s not that you broke up with Zoe, so what is it? Why can’t you do it anymore, Evan?”  
“That’s really none of your business -”  
“I’m your co-president -”  
“Not anymore! I resigned! Let it go, Alana. The Connor Project is done for, move on before it just makes everything worse.”  
Alana swallowed and remembered how it felt when Evan first told her he was resigning. She felt as though the world was ending. The same feeling cascaded down at her as she looked at him now; he was dressed in well-worn pajamas and his eyes were wet. He looked so fragile, as though a single touch could break him. Alana must have done this. She had published the suicide note and uprooted Evan’s composure. Jared had every right to be angry at her - she hurt him, and Alana couldn’t fix that.  
The rain lashed against the windows as Alana blinked back tears of her own and gave Evan a strained smile. “I see.” She nodded. “Well, thank you for your time, Evan. I hope we can still keep in touch!” Her voice broke on the last word; Evan was never one for communication outside of the bare minimum required for the Connor Project. He wouldn’t talk to her. “Enjoy your day.” Alana gave him another small nod before turning back to the door. She pulled it open and let the sound of the rain overwhelm her. She stepped out and closed the door behind her.  
As soon as she was alone Alana rubbed away the wetness of her eyes. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’s fine. You are not - You are not alone.” Alana whispered.  
A crack from behind her had Alana wheeling around. “Alana, w-wait!” Evan was in the doorframe, blushing a bit in his cheeks.  
“Yes?”  
“May-maybe it doesn’t have to be over. If - if you - if you still want me to come back, that is, I don’t know why, maybe you’d changed your mind -”  
“Yes! Yes, Evan, I would love to have you back!” For just one month Alana tried to add, but the words were lost in her throat and went unsaid.  
“Gr-great. So, um, it - it just - it just goes back to - um - normal?”  
“If you want it to, yes. I could always take on more work if -”  
“No no no no no that’s fine, I can work, I just, want to make sure that - everything is - fine.”  
“Of course it is. I’ll email you tonight and tell you my ideas!”  
“Gr-great, thanks Alana. And - um - and Alana?”  
“Yes, Evan?”  
“Ta-take care of yourself.”  
Alana bit her lip and gave Evan a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, really Evan.”  
“Y-yeah I know.” His eyes studied his socks. He still looked so small.  
“Evan?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m sorry. About Zoe... and everything.”  
“M-me too.” He took a breath and raised his eyes to look at her. “I… I wish… I wish  
everything was alright. That… everything had turned out okay.”  
“It will, Evan. Your story isn’t over.”  
Evan swallowed. “Th-thank you Alana.” He let out a breath. “H-have a good night.” The door swung shut before Alana could reply, and she was left in the pouring rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy i didn't abandon this i was just busy! i am still busy but now i have more time and i love writing and i love this so i'm not leaving you anytime soon! this was a pleasure to write, there are little references dotting it, and yeah, poor Alana. i do what i have to. also, what do you think of mr. roberts? i love writing him, personally. there is nothing like saying someone has the countenance of a plucked chicken. comments are excellent, kudos are great, and you reading this is an honor. thanks and i'm going to go nap. goodnight.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: negative self-talk, though that's to be expected, isn't it?

The house was empty when Alana opened the front door. She had just driven back from Evan’s through the pouring rain, and was now shivering slightly. Her parents wouldn’t be home for a few hours though, which meant Alana could take a hot shower without having to rush. Alana shut the door behind her and the sound of rain became a muffled thing. The house descended into a peaceful quiet. It was nice.  
Alana locked the door and went over and put her school bag down at the table, sighing slightly. Her limbs felt heavy, and in a dreamlike state Alana went to the kitchen and began to heat up some leftover casserole in the microwave. She hadn’t eaten since last night and it was only then that it dawned on her just how hungry she was.  
As the microwave heated up her food, Alana went back to the dining room and searched her bag for her phone. Her talk with Evan had left her feeling satisfied but a bit tired, and she hadn’t had the energy to text Zoe back. But as the microwave hummed, Alana pulled out her phone and opened the text message. If Alana had had more energy to her, she might have squealed for joy, but in her lethargic state she only felt a dull contentment and a sharper, more prominent stab of nervousness in her gut.  
Alana began to worry her lip with her teeth. Whenever someone had texted her before, it was always for a favor, and when Alana tried to talk to them about something beyond that, she would get no reply. Alana could never tell if it was because of something she had said or a different, more nebulous, reason. But for whatever reason those conversations had ended so quickly, Alana didn’t want the same thing to happen to this one. Alana’s finger hovered over the keys, trying to come up with a captivating answer that will guarantee a reply. Then, the microwave beeped at her and Alana started, the calming lull of the house broken. Alana went back into the kitchen and dropped the phone on the counter before pulling out the still-hot contents of the microwave. The casserole sizzled and Alana made sure to touch it with the tips of her fingers to avoid getting burned. Once it was placed besides the closed microwave, Alana turned back to her phone. Zoe’s message stared up at her and Alana pressed the home button with an expression of distaste on her countenance. It felt as though the text was judging her for not being able to respond, which was ridiculous, because text messages did not have sentience. It still felt as though it was gloating at her inability to do such a simple thing though, and to avoid thinking about it any further Alana went to her calendar and put in her meeting with Katie for that Saturday at ten. Katie would show, Alana would help her study, and Katie would be so pleased with Alana’s company that she would ask for her twitter handle, which Alana would of course give her immediately.  
Speaking of which, Alana hadn’t checked her twitter in some time. She had been caught up in work and crying, but someone could have messaged her since she last checked.  
Alana went into twitter to find that she had no new messages. She went into all her other social media; no messages, no notifications, nothing.  
But she still had Zoe’s unanswered message sitting in her texts.  
Alana took a bite of her casserole and opened the message, her fingers hovering above the keys before beginning to type.  
**Hey Zoe! Yeah, this is Alana. I’m so glad you decided to contact me! How are you doing?**  
That seemed to balance politeness and familiarity well enough, Alana decided. She turned her attention to the casserole. It was an ancient family recipe, a “heirloom of the Becks,” her father insisted. It had always been comforting as well as delicious, and soon Alana’s bowl was empty. By the time Alana had put away her dishes, her phone was alight with a new notification from Zoe’s number. Alana opened it up and hastily added Zoe as a contact in her phone before reading what Zoe had written.  
**I’m bored. My dad still won’t let me go to school but i think i’m finally wearing him down lmao**  
Alana poured herself a glass of water and wrote a reply.  
**I know we’ll all be very happy to have you back in classes!**  
**Really? Last time i checked, everyone hates my family**  
Alana pursed her lips. While Zoe’s family was receiving negative press, she shouldn’t let  
that get her down. It was important to be optimistic.  
**You shouldn’t be so pessimistic. The statement on the Connor Project has helped to smooth some of it over, and when I film the video with your family things will get even better. It won’t fix all of the bad publicity, but it’s certainly a start!**  
**You shouldn’t be so optimistic. What video?**  
Alana was taking a final gulp of her water when she nearly choked on it. She still hadn’t sent out the email to the Murphys requesting them for a video! How stupid could she be that she forgot to send out one stupid email to the Murphys? “I’m an idiot,” she groaned, tossing her glass into the sink and picking up her phone as she ran up the stairs and into her room. Alana turned on the ceiling light and then responded to Zoe.  
**Well, I was thinking that you and your family could join me for a tour of the orchard before its reconstruction! I think it would help to humanize your family and make them more sympathetic.**  
Zoe didn't respond, and Alana went over to her desk and sat down in her chair, opening up her computer and trying to ignore the thought that she had somehow managed to drive Zoe away. Every couple seconds Alana’s eyes flickered over to her phone in her hand to see if she had messaged her. She still hadn’t by the time Alana pulled up her email and hastily drafted up an email that proposed her idea. It sounded convincing to her by the time she had finished editing it, but that could be because it was Alana who had written it. She could get a second opinion; Alana could send it to Evan but she didn’t want to overwhelm him so soon after getting him to agree to come back to the Connor Project. Alana could also send it to Zoe, but as Zoe would be one of the recipients of the email, it felt a little redundant to have her check it. Besides, it would be a bit strange; after all, they weren’t close yet. Then her phone dinged and Alana switched her attention over to it. A text from Zoe was displayed on the screen. It read:  
**My parents haven’t mentioned that**  
**That would be because I haven’t asked them yet. However, I am sending the email out right now!**  
**Oh that makes sense. For a minute i thought that they had forgotten about me again**  
Alana almost began to reply when Zoe began typing again.  
**That sounds so sad, sorry lmao**  
**No, don’t be sorry. I’m glad you trust me to tell me things like that.**  
Alana meant it, but it felt like the sort of thing you take out of a self-help book or from an article about helping depressed teens. She needed to be more casual. She thought about taking on a “what are friends for?” at the end, but that meant assuming that they were friends, and Alana didn’t want to make an assumption on that.  
“Oh shut up, Alana,” she groaned to herself. It didn’t matter how awkward her message was; it was the truth. That’s the whole reason Alana had given Zoe her number in the first place; to give her someone to talk to who wouldn’t break down sobbing or shut her out. Alana steeled herself and pressed send. The message went through, and the small “read” sign popped up underneath it. Zoe didn’t type anything.  
“She’s leaving me on read?” Alana nearly shrieked, jumping up from her seat in shock. How did Alana managed to screw up her acquaintanceship with Zoe so soon? She should have went with a more casual ending instead of reciting an excerpt from “Therapy 101” or something. Alana fell back into her seat, her hands resting on top of her hair. She needed to wash it; it was getting to be wash day and her roots felt uncomfortably dry. Maybe Zoe stopped talking to her because she hadn’t washed her hair.  
Her phone chimed and Alana kneed the table in shock. Alana grabbed her phone while rubbing her knee irritably. Zoe had responded to her.  
**Thanks, alana. I really appreciate it**  
**No problem! Feel free to talk about it it you want to. Your parents, the Connor Project, Evan, or anything really.**  
She may have been pushing it with her ending statement, but Zoe said that she appreciated her concern before. Alana should make sure that Zoe knows Alana means it.  
**What do you mean Evan?**  
**Evan told me you guys broke up. It’s probably not my place to tell you, but, he seemed really sad.**  
**Good. He deserves to feel shitty for what he did.**  
**What did he do?**  
Zoe didn’t respond immediately and Alana regretted pressing her about Evan. It was clearly none of her business, and now Zoe wouldn’t want to talk to her again. Alana should have just kept her mouth shut.  
Alana put her phone down and turned her attention to her computer. The email glared at her as if it was daring her to press send. Alana glared back, her fingers taking the mouse and hovering the cursor over send. The email taunted her. Alana pressed send.  
She sprung up from her desk. There was probably a typo in the letter, or perhaps she used a word incorrectly, and the Murphys would reject her proposal because of it. Then Evan would leave because there is no point in staying at a project that doesn’t do anything and that would mean the end of the Connor Project. Then colleges would reject her because she showed a lack in leadership capabilities and then she will end up jobless, living off her parents like some kind of parasite and burdening them. Then when her parents die Alana will end up homeless on the street because she’ll have no friends and then she will die, jobless and alone because of an email.  
Which was all that is was. It was just an email. It wasn’t going to ruin her life, it wasn’t. She was overreacting. However, the knowledge of that didn’t comfort her and Alana grabbed her phone and left the room, deciding that taking a shower and washing her hair would be a good distraction for her at the moment.  
With measured composure, Alana took her phone and quickly made her way down the stairs and into the bathroom. Alana set her phone down besides the sink and was about to undress when her phone buzzed with a notification from Zoe.  
**I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway what about you? Any boy drama?**  
**I’m a lesbian, actually.**  
**Well any girl drama then?**  
**Nope! I’m too busy to do things like date.**  
**You seem to be busy a lot**  
**I have a lot on my plate with the Connor Project, school, and tutoring.**  
**How do you do get all of that done? I know i wouldn’t be able to**  
**I have excellent time management skills!**  
“I say, while forgetting to do two dozen other things,” she muttered as she pressed send. She looked at the filthy mirror. She still hadn’t set aside time to clean it.  
**lmao can you teach me? Im shit at that**  
**Of course! I can help you set up a schedule and organize your room! I’ve found that a clean space leads to more productivity. I will be available Friday and Sunday this week.**  
**I was kidding, but thanks for the offer. I might just take you up on it**  
Of course Zoe was joking. She used “lmao.” Alana needed to stop being so stupid all the time. She began to type out an apology when another text showed up.  
**Seriously alana, thanks. idk a lot of people that would just agree to something like that**  
**It’s no problem! I have to shower, but I’ll talk to you when I get out!**  
**Okay ttyl**  
Alana put on some nineties R &B. When she was little, her mom had played this kind of music and do her hair for school. She had told Alana that R&B helped calm her down and anchor her to the earth when she got stressed about things. This was the first time her mom had mentioned her anxiety. Both her and her dad had it, which resulted in them leaping to worst case scenarios every day. One time in the second grade, Alana had been talking to a teacher after school when her dad came barreling in, his eyes wide with terror. When he saw Alana chatting with her teacher, he seemed to calm down before he chewed her out for not notifying her where she was. He had thought that some kids had cornered her behind the school and were beating her senseless. That’s how her father thought about things - he always assumed the worse.  
With a sinking feeling, Alana recalled her unplanned trip to Zoe’s. She had forgotten about him, and only then did she realize just how much of a horrible daughter she had been to him. Alana didn’t tell him, and that caused her dad to worry - he probably thought she had been killed! All because Alana couldn’t remember to tell him. She hadn’t even felt that bad at the time; she had been consumed with the exhilaration of having someone be nice to her. But now the full fledged guilt settled into her stomach. Her dad had almost definitely moved on from the incident, but she still had caused him so much stress - after all he had done for her! He tried to give her so much when she was young; he tried to give her the world, even though they couldn’t afford it. He had been let go from his job when Alana was three, and he had spent eleven long years working odd jobs and trying to find steady employment. During that time he still managed to be there for her, to drive her to the library and pick her up from school. And this was how Alana treated him.  
Alana held the edge of the counter with a white-knuckled grip. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t cry,” she murmured, it becoming a looping mantra in the air. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” She took a deep gulp of air and exhaled it slowly, her eyes tightly shut. At the edge of her ear sang a familiar, comforting voice.  
_Everyone is the victim too_  
_It's just a waste of time..._  
This was recognizably En Vogue, specifically their song “Lies.” It had been Alana’s favorite song ever since she heard it when she was younger. Her mother had been doing Alana’s hair in cornrows for the first day of school when it popped up on shuffle, and something about the beat and the lyrics made Alana grow obsessed with the song. For a whole week she blared that song throughout her house, belting it at the top of her lungs, until her mom told her that she needed to stop it; Alana did stop, but very bitterly. She focused on it now and let the words wash over her. “I’ll live my life a different way, refuse to let myself become a victim.” It calmed her down and quieted her guilt to the point where Alana could open her eyes and get ready to shower.  
“Refuse to let myself become a victim.”

__

 

By the time Alana’s father returned home, Alana had showered, changed into her pajamas, and proofread the email she sent to make sure that it did not have any grammatical errors. It didn’t. She was in the midst of doing homework and texting Zoe when the door had opened and his voice called up to her.  
“Alana! How was your day?”  
Alana poked her head out her bedroom door to see her dad closing the door behind him. His suede jacket was damp from the rain. “Good! I made plans with a girl named Katie and I talked to Evan! He’s agreed to be my co-president again.”  
“That’s great Alana. I’m proud of you.”  
“Thanks dad. And dad?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m sorry about not telling you I was going to Zoe’s.”  
Her dad gave her a comforting smile. “I forgive you. Just tell me where you’re going next time.”  
“I promise I will. Love you!”  
“Love you too Alana.” The last thing Alana saw as she closed her door was her dad plopping into the sofa and turning on the TV, most likely to watch some documentary on the great musicians of the 20th century. Alana turned back to see a notification pop up on her phone. Alana went back to her desk and read it. Zoe was complaining about her jazz teacher. Apparently he was the epitome of incompetence; the band sounded like ‘the forbidden love child of a kazoo and a dying whale’.  
**That sounds horrible! I can relate somewhat; my english teacher might know what he’s doing, but he is just the most awful old man.  
** **Ugh he sounds bad. Who is he?  
** **Mr. Roberts. He’s really old and has just one strand of hair on his head that he keeps gelled back. He’s totally terrible; everyone hates him.  
** **Now he sounds like a disney villain lmao. What’d he do?  
** **He insults everyone, even people who don’t do anything wrong! For instance, today I didn’t < have my notebook, so I was take my notes on a piece of paper when he just started attacking me for being pathetic to loan out my notebook and not expect anything in return! I hate him.  
** **He called you pathetic? Why isn’t he fired! You’re the best student at our school omg i hate him  
** A little grin came onto Alana’s face as she read that. Zoe thought she was the best student in their school! Alana took a screenshot of the message before responding.  
**His nephew is the principal, unfortunately. The only reason he still has his job is because of that. If that doesn’t make a case for nepotism, along with the centuries long aristocracy and monarchy in Europe, I don’t know what will.  
** **It does make a solid case. If him and my jazz teacher made a baby, it would be the worst teacher to walk the earth.  
** Alana, still grinning, began to type out a reply, but Zoe sent another text before she could.  
**My dad’s home i’m going to go talk to him about school gtg  
** **I hope it goes well!  
** Zoe left her on read and Alana checked twitter. No one had messaged her. Alana checked her Facebook. No one had messaged her. Alana checked her email. No one had emailed her.  
Hopefully the Murphys would get back to her soon. She needed to get a video out.  
But for now, Alana could contact her co-president; Evan. She got Evan back. A pleasant warmth seeped through her veins at the knowledge that he was working alongside her again. He came back to work with her; although Alana had a sneaking suspicious his motivation for coming back was less about him changing his mind and more about how pathetic Alana had looked standing out on his porch, framed by pouring rain. But whatever the reason, at least he was there.  
He needed to be updated on the going-ons of the Connor Project immediately. Alana pulled up his contact and quickly began to text him; Evan had a disdain for phone calls.  
**Hey Evan! Okay, so this is what I’ve been doing with the Connor Project since you’ve been away. If you weren’t aware, there was a video released earlier this week that showed me and Zoe having a disagreement, so I issued a public statement that showed that the Connor Project supports the Murphy family. I also have emailed the Murphys about appearing in a video before the orchard is renovated. I was hoping that I can also have you film a video; perhaps talking about signs of depression and suicidal ideation? But only if that’s not too much to ask of course. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing. I completely understand if you don’t want to do it. Do you have any questions for me?**  
It seemed professional enough. Alana sent the message just as she heard the front door open downstairs.  
“Hey honey. Alana! I’m home!” Her mother’s voice drifted up the staircase. She was suddenly reminded of when she was little and her mother had had a long shift at work. Although her job had been well-paying, she still had to pull overtime so she could keep her family afloat. They had to cut back on recreational expenses as well, such as Alana’s gymnastics classes, while her dad tried to find a steady employment. Alana remembered the nights when he would come back after a long day of working an odd job, drained and world-weary. He would draw Alana into his lap and together they watched documentaries about music, her father’s lifelong passion. They sat together in companionable silence, watching the TV, until Alana’s mother came home, equally tired, and made Alana go to bed after a family dinner.  
Alana had always reluctantly dragged her feet up the stairs and into her room, but she never actually went to bed. Instead she would stay up and listen to her parents talk. Sometimes they would talk about small things, like her mom’s day at work or their past dates. Other times they talked about heavier stuff, bringing up her dad’s unemployment and how they were becoming increasingly tight on finances. Such things had filled Alana with fear, even though she didn’t really grasp what they were talking about. All she knew was that her parents were worried more than usual, and that she might be able to help them. Most nights Alana couldn’t sleep because she was trying to think of ways to ease her parents’ troubles. Some days she would clean up around the house; she would wipe down the mirrors, vacuum, and do the dishes. Other days Alana would try to find job offers for her father. Whenever Alana did this, her dad would always tell her that she shouldn’t worry about that. She was too young; it wasn’t her job to look after anyone. After the third time of being told this, Alana stopped looking for job offers, but never stopped trying to help them. After her parents cancelled her gymnastics classes, Alana told them that she had lost interest in her piano lessons; they cancelled that as well. It had hurt to have to leave behind her friends from class, but it had been for the best. She had done what she needed to do to alleviate as much pressure as possible on her family. She could never burden them.  
This mindset applied to school as well. No matter how tired or empty Alana felt, she always tried her best at school. She could never disappoint her parents. She worked arduously every day; she did all her homework, sought after extra credit, and even tried to make friends. However, her classmates didn’t take to well to Alana talking to them. They always left after five minutes of hanging out with her. It had left a bitter taste in her mouth every time, but Alana had always chalked it up as them having a bad day. It wasn’t until Alana was older that she began to wonder if they left because of Alana herself.  
And now, Alana could close her eyes and could see her mother - younger, but still just as tired - standing at the front door, telling her father that they would be downsizing her department. She could hear her father reassuring her mother that they would get by; that no matter what, they had each other. And now, remembering those times when Alana had been too young to understand what that meant, Alana felt so very small, and wished that she could go back to that time when she was young and didn’t understand anything and could wrap her arms around her mother and just be held. She wanted to go down there right now and tell her everything. “Mama, I don’t think anyone is going to love me!” And she would throw herself into her mother’s arms and take in the comfort of her worn, familiar clothing and breathe in the smell of ink and paper. And after a moment of surprise her mother would wrap her arms around her and tell her that she was wrong, that Alana will be loved by other people and that no matter what, she and her father would always be there for her, and Alana would feel safe.  
But Alana didn’t rush down to her mother because her mother already had enough issues to take care of without Alana adding more. Besides, she didn’t need help; she was fine on her own. She plastered a smile to her face and went out onto the landing so her mom could see her. “Hey mom! How was work?”  
Her mother gave her a tired smile when she saw Alana. “Oh, same old same old. My boss keeps ragging on me to get this report in, but I’ll be fine. How about you Alana? Was school good?”  
“Totally! My teachers say I’m doing really well in all my classes!”  
“I’m glad Alana. I’m so proud of you. Now, who’s making dinner tonight?”  
“I will!”  
“Oh good, thanks Alana.” Her mom’s brows scrunched up and she squinted at Alana’s hair. “Did you get your hair wet? They’re frizzing up honey.”  
“Oh shoot. I thought today would be a good day to wash my hair but I guess I forgot to add gel to them.”  
“Well go put some gel on them then,” her mother said, frowning and moving to the base of the stairs. “You’ve still got a couple weeks left before you need to take them out.”  
“Yes mom!” Alana scurried down the steps. Her feet touched the ground floor when her mom grabbed her wrist and took in her appearance.  
“Hon, you don’t look too well. Are you sick? Have you not been sleeping?”  
“I’ve just had a long day.”  
“Alana, don’t lie to me.”  
There was a small quiver of silence as her mother stared at her. Her face was unreadable.  
“I’m not,” Alana muttered, “lying.”  
Her mom pursed her lips before dropping Alana’s wrist. She gave a small huff of displeasure. “While you’re in there, fix your edges, okay?”  
“Thanks for reminding me mom!” Alana went to the bathroom before her mother could ask her any more questions.  
After working gel through her twists and cleaning up her edges, Alana felt more presentable. Besides the under eye bags, she looked like her usual self.  
As Alana left the bathroom, she saw her mother, her hair now in a wrap, in the kitchen, working on dinner. “Mom, I said I’d make dinner.”  
“You seem tired and since you insist that everything is fine, I figure cooking is the least I can do.”  
“But mom-”  
“Alana, don’t argue with me. Now go upstairs and take a nap or something.”  
“I’m-”  
“Alana.” There was a finality in her mother’s tone.  
“If you insist,” Alana grumbled.  
“I do. Now go on! Get some rest. And don’t forget to put your hair in a wrap!” she called  
after her, pointing at her own. “I think you’ve been forgetting recently!”  
Alana made her begrudging way up the staircase before closing herself in her room and,  
fuming, wrapped up her hair and plopped down on her bed. As soon as her head hit her satin pillow, exhaustion suddenly seeped out of her bones and chained her to the mattress. Maybe her mother had a point; she was very, very, tired after all… A little nap wouldn’t hurt anyone… Just a brief rest…  
Her phone began to buzz on her desk. Alana cracked open one eye, suddenly very irritated at whoever decided that calling her right as she was about to get some sleep was a good idea. But it could be Evan, or Zoe, or even the Murphys. Alana dragged herself from her bed and made her way over to the desk. She opened her phone and, to her shock, the name Jared Kleinman was displayed.  
A feeling of dread engulfed her as she answered the phone. “Hello Jared. I wasn’t expecting you to call me. Is there anything wrong?” Alana kept her irritation out of her voice.  
“Uh, lemme think. Oh yeah. Do you remember what I said Monday?”  
A sudden cold overtook Alana. For the second time that day, Jared’s words warning her to stay away from Evan rang around her head. “...Jared, I did what I-”  
“Had to do, yeah, sure, whatever excuse works for you. I told you to stay away from Evan and you didn’t. Now you’ve got him roped up in the Connor Project again when all he needs to do is let it go! Can’t you think of anyone but yourself?”  
“Jared, I am doing what is best for the Connor Project and -”  
“And I am doing what is best for my friend! You are going to tell Evan that he can quit the Connor Project if he wants do right now Alana, or so help me, I’ll-”  
“What?” Alana snapped. “You’re going to do what, Jared? Yell at me some more? Tell me how I’m an awful person for trying to help people? I gave Evan the opportunity to come back and he took it. And stop pretending that you’re Evan’s friend when god knows you’ve only treated him like a dog!”  
“I - I - he - that’s not your place-”  
“And it’s not your place to police what Evan does. Don’t contact me again unless you need to talk about the Connor Project.” Alana ended the call without waiting for a reply and dropped the phone back onto her desk. It landed with a thunk.  
Jared’s words spun around in her head as she made her way back to bed and collapsed onto it. She was still awake when her mom called her down to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the texting bit would be easier but then i realized i had to go back and bold it and i regretted my decision. still, at least it's coded! this was longer than i expected, but it's all par for the course. and zoe makes an appearance (sort of)!!!! my fave part to write was definitely the family thing.  
> which is right, i gave alana a backstory! what'd you think? did i completely ruin everything? i hope you enjoyed reading this - i had fun writing it! thank you so much for reading!!!  
> edit: right, i was going to put my tumblr this time. @iblockedwritersblock that is me. and thanks for reading!!!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: break down

The following day passed stressfully, with Jared glowering at her at every corner. He was upset from their phone call. Alana had regretted her outburst; Jared was trying to protect Evan, which was a good thing. He clearly was caring more about Evan then he had previously. She should have kept her tongue instead of snapping at him. However, a small part of her felt satisfaction at finally getting Jared to stop berating her. That small part only exacerbated her guilt. She shouldn’t feel good at putting another person down. Alana tried to apologize, but Jared had evaded her like Mr. Roberts evaded basic human decency. Needless to say, he hadn’t given her a chance to talk to him.  
Zoe, however, had sought her out. When she woke up from her restless night, Alana had been greeted with a text from her about how she had nearly choked on her mother’s food at dinner.  
**Oh my god are you okay?**  
**Yeah but my mom nearly started crying. I think she thought that i was going to kick it right then and there  
** She couldn’t think of a proper response to that, so she had stalled commenting by getting ready for school. By the time she was situated in her car Zoe had texted her again.  
**I’m so bored right now  
** **I’m sorry. I wish you could go to school. Speaking of which, how did the talk with your dad go?  
** **He said he’d think about it which means i am finally breaking him. I think i’ll have cracked him by next week  
** **That’s good! I can’t wait to see you back at school again.  
** **Well at least i know someone will be looking out for me  
** Alana frowned at that, but decided not to comment. She already knew Zoe’s opinions on her optimism.  
**Of course! I’m going to start driving, I’ll text you later!  
** The next time Alana could talk to Zoe was at lunch. They were actually getting along quite nicely; Zoe was funny and bright, and Alana tried her best to be entertaining. She got a fluttery sense in her stomach every time Zoe responded. Some of her acquaintances even asked her why she was smiling so much. Alana told them that she was talking to someone. A friend? they asked. No, it was just an acquaintance, but they were becoming close acquaintances. At least, that’s what Alana thought. She could have just been jumping to conclusions.  
It was in the middle of this playful banter between Zoe and Alana that Evan responded to her text from the night before. His text was shorter than Alana’s and just as focused.  
**Hey Alana! I saw the video. You did a really good job of handling it. The Murphy video is a good idea but I don’t think I should be there when it’s filmed (because of me and Zoe). And actually, I don’t mean to be rude but, could the video I film not be centered around suicide? It just feels a bit too personal for me to talk about right now. Sorry.  
** Alana felt like facepalming in the middle of the cafeteria. Of course it was too personal for him! Connor’s suicide note just got released and Alana wanted Evan to continue talking about it. That was stupid of her.  
**That’s totally okay! I should have realized that this would be bad time to talk about it since the suicide note was just released. Maybe you could talk film a thank you video for everyone who donated to the orchard!  
** It’s no problem! I have to go to class. Bye Evan!  
Her day had concluded with Mr. Roberts being his usual nasty self, which meant he left her alone just slightly more so than he had last week. Alana welcomed the treatment, even if it was rude. It was at least familiar.  
Nonetheless, her tutoring session with Anthony was a welcome respite from the day’s business. He was as innocent and youthful as ever. Alana had taken her time to appear as energetic as she usually is; she didn’t want Anthony to worry about her. She had even reapplied concealer under her eyes in the library parking lot just to make sure he couldn’t tell how tired she was. When she walked in, he had perked up immediately and waved at her. He wanted to reread the monkey book, and Alana was too fatigued to argue her usual points. Perhaps this was what clued Anthony in on Alana’s fatal mistake, for after agreeing Anthony began to pester her with questions as to why she was so tired. Alana did her best to convince him that she was fine, and by the end of the session Anthony looked moderately less concerned. Still, she had seen him whisper intently to his grandma when she came to pick him up. The crouched woman had looked over her with furrowed brow, muttering something indecipherably under her breath. Then the two went out the door, leaving Alana to put the books back and contemplate what they had just discussed.  
By the time Alana had arrived home, the Murphys still hadn’t responded to her proposal. Alana had wanted to ask Zoe about that, but their acquaintanceship was strictly nonprofessional. It was for Zoe to have someone who would listen to her talk about her problems, not for Alana to push her agenda through.  
That Friday was no better. If anything, it was worse. Alana had managed to corner Jared in between first and second period, only to have him snap at her and storm away before she could get out a sentence. Zoe still talked to her, but Evan had left to work on his script for his video. Alana had drafted all the video scripts and questions before Evan had quit, but now that he was back, he was taking more initiative. It was odd, and a part of Alana was worried that it was because he pitied her. But a larger part of Alana insisted that it was simply that he had missed the Connor Project and was excited to be back.  
After school Alana had to go to student council. She spent most of her time monologuing about various projects and handing out flyers she had prepared last week. No one else actually said much. Most of the responses from her fellow councilmen were grunts of indifference or giggles regarding something Alana had said or done. When she had gotten home, Alana welcomed the quiet, magnanimous air of the house. It was a sanctuary. She quickly did her homework and showered; then she texted Zoe until her parents came home. Her father was cooking tonight, despite Alana’s protests that it was her turn. He had shook his head at her when she insisted that she cooked tonight and had sent her up to her room to relax. When dinner was ready, the family ate in companionable quiet with the occasional friendly look at each other. It made Alana feel warm.  
Alana had fallen asleep that night texting Zoe with much of her stress from Jared and the student council had eased.  
Despite her exhaustion, Alana woke up at thirty minutes past seven. Her body had developed an internal timer because of her strict sleep schedule. She couldn’t sleep in if she tried. For nearly a half hour Alana laid in her bed, listening to the tranquil sounds of early morning.It wasn’t until her phone went off that she finally roused herself to movement, doing her best to start thinking.  
When she grabbed her phone, Alana found that what had caused her phone to start beeping was a notification reminding her of her meeting with Katie.  
It was only then that Alana was stirred into proper awareness. Anticipation sank into her veins as she left her bed and made her way down the stairs, her phone still in hand.  
Alana found that the kitchen was empty. Her mother would be off to meet with the realtor while her father would be sleeping in, dreaming of jazz music and concerts. When he was her age, he had been in a band. Apparently he still had some of his old songs locked away somewhere in his room. He never played them, as they were all sappy love songs that made him cringe with embarrassment. Alana hoped one day to listen to them, whether because he showed it to her or because she took the initiative to listen to them on her own.  
Alana turned the light on in the kitchen and busied herself making breakfast. She was frying some eggs when she heard the sound of feet plodding down the stairs. Alana turned around to see her father blearily rubbing his eyes. “G’morning Alana…” he rasped out.  
“Good morning dad!”  
“Inside… voices.”  
“Sorry… dad.”  
Her father took his hands from his face and gave her an irritated look. “Is my daughter mocking me at eight in the morning?”  
“You make it so easy.”  
He grunted at her before moving into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Want a cup?”  
“Yep.”  
The two worked on breakfast in amiable silence. Her father didn’t have much energy in the morning and Alana didn’t want to end his drowsiness. With the two of them working together breakfast was done in record time. Alana served up two plates full of eggs, toast, and yogurt. Her father poured out a mug of coffee for them both and they made their way to the dining table together.  
Alana sat down opposite of her father and pulled her plate and coffee close to her. They ate in silence, her father still sleepy. Alana finished her plate first and took her dishes to the sink while her dad nursed his coffee. He seemed to be waking up now. He even managed to speak as Alana put her foot on the first stair.  
“What are you doing today?”  
“Well, I’m going to go help Katie with her English class. We’re meeting at the library at ten so she has enough time to wake up and get ready.”  
“Don’t teenagers normally get up by ten?”  
“I’m a teenager and I don’t get up at ten.”  
“Yeah, but you’re Alana. You’ve always been a morning person.”  
“Well, she didn’t have a problem with the time when I told her. It’ll be great dad, you’re worrying for nothing.”  
“I’m not worried. Just don’t expect her to be able to put together a sentence is all I’m saying.”  
“Haha. Very funny.” Alana rolled her eyes at him and her dad chuckled into his coffee. She went up the stairs and into her room. She hadn’t picked out her outfit the day before, but at least she had plenty of options for the sunnier weather. The rain had been starting to get her down.  
Her fingers rifled through her clothes, going through stalwart blue options to distinctive patterned pieces. It all either seemed too boring or too immature, but in the end she decided on a collared blue tank top and a pair of slim-fitting jeans. It seemed like a safe option.  
Alana let her hair out of the wrap that she had slept in and let it fall to her shoulders. Today she would wear it down; that way it seemed less formal and more personal. It might not have been her usual look, but maybe it would be a welcome change.  
By 9:15 Alana was standing at the front door, waving goodbye to her father, who had hauled down his guitar to the living room and began to tune it. “Have fun Alana!” he called after her as she shut the door.  
Alana was met with the fervor of the sun’s heat. It was a refreshing change from the dreary rain of the week. She stood there for a moment, taking in the warmth of the sun, before shaking herself out of her reverie and hurrying to her car. Perhaps it was just the weather, but Alana had a feeling that today was going to be good. The only thing that could tarnish this instinct was the quiet, nagging doubt that it was all going to go very wrong.

******************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

************************************By the time Alana pulled into the library parking lot, Alana was thinking a great deal. Most of her thoughts were concerned with slandering the government; she had spent the ride listening to NPR narrate the latest political crisis. It only gave her more reason to believe in the incompetency of the government.  
However, a small portion of her thoughts had concerned herself with Katie. A nervous excitement had begun to drum in her veins as the clock ticked steadily closer to ten. These thoughts began to take up more space in her head as she left her car and made her way to the library.  
As it was Saturday, the library was fairly empty. A few workers sat at the checkout desk and some people were scattered throughout the shelves, but other than that hardly anyone was there. Alana drew up a seat at a table positioned near the door and opened up her bag, taking out her notebook, phone, pencil, pencil sharpener, pens, and eraser. She was ready to study in a matter of minutes. She was twenty minutes early though, which left her with not much to do. Her mind toyed with the idea of reading a book, but a sudden, tempting idea popped into her head. Zoe should be up by now, no matter what her father says about teenagers. No one sleeps in until ten!  
**Good morning Zoe!  
** A few moments later Zoe responded.  
**It’s nine let me sleep  
** **It’s nearly ten, actually. Why are you sleeping in so late? What are you doing with your day?  
** **Because im a teenager & idk go out i guess  
** **I’m a teenager and I don’t sleep in to ten. Going out sounds fun! Where are you going?  
** **Youre alana of course you get up early. I used to go to the mall but i don’t think its fun when your by yourself.  
** **Why does everyone keep saying that? And the mall on Belmont? My mom and I have gone there before. It’s so big! They have such nice clothing stores and office supplies.  
** **You go to the mall for office supplies?  
** **Of course! I can do all my shopping at once there! It’s very efficient.  
** **Yep. i’m going to get ready to go out i guess brb  
** **Alright!  
** Alana put her phone down and tapped her fingers on the table. She knew she looked out of place, what with her sitting down, alone, with all her supplies out in front of her doing nothing. Thankfully there weren’t any people near her. They had all clustered in the back.  
Reading a book still wasn’t appealing - besides, she could miss Katie walking through the door. So Alana picked up her phone and began to click through her twitter and facebook. There were no notifications. Alana went into her email. The Murphys still hadn’t replied.  
Alana bit her lip. There was nothing wrong in the email - but maybe she missed something last night? She read over it again, but it seemed fine. The Murphys usually responded within a couple hours; this was too long for them to not give her an answer.  
Maybe they were just having a busy day. It was just that, Alana thought. They were busy and couldn’t answer it yet.  
Alana set her phone down again and looked at the clock. Ten was steadily approaching.  
Alana waited.  
And waited.  
And waited.  
And waited.  
The clock hands hit ten. They went past twenty past ten, forty past ten, an hour past ten…  
And Katie didn’t show.  
She was in traffic, Alana reasoned. She had hit some traffic and couldn’t make it to the library on time, and she would be here any second.  
The clock hit 11:40 and Katie still wasn’t there.  
A thick, clogging feeling built up in Alana’s throat. She checked traffic reports, but the roads were completely free. No one was out and moving on a Saturday. Katie wasn’t caught up in traffic.  
Perhaps she had just forgotten. That’s right; Katie forgot. She would apologize on Monday and they would reschedule.  
The clogging feeling thickened in her throat and obstructed her voice. A small, nagging voice chimed up in the back of her mind. What if the idea of hanging out with Alana was so repulsive that Katie had chosen to simply not go. Alana was that disgusting. And needy and forceful. And pathetic. The choking feeling bubbled up her throat and Alana swallowed around it, packing up her things. She could feel people staring at her. They had come out of the shelves to watch her fall apart in a public institute. Alana zipped up her bag and put a hand over her mouth. She was not going to cry in a public library again. She was not going to cry in a public library again.  
“Alana?”  
Alana’s head shot up hopefully, her hand dropping from her mouth as a smile plastered itself onto her cheeks and her heart banged against her sternum.. “Hey Ka - Zoe!” Her voice was too loud for the library and the manager at the desk gave her a glare that made Alana’s face go red.  
“Are you okay? You look kinda sad.” She was dressed in cuffed shorts and a light grey blouse. She pulled off careless fabulously.  
“I’m fine!” Alana felt her composure slipping. “Please excuse me, I just need to go outside, excuse me-” Alana bustled out of the library, her eyes stinging. Zoe already had enough going on in her life without her having to deal with Alana having a breakdown over being stood up for a little study session. She forced her way outside and out of the library.  
The sun now seemed a bitter irony as Alana made her way behind the library where she could hide in the shade. Her hand covered her mouth, trying to keep whatever guttural noise that was fighting its way out of her stomach from leaving her lips. Katie would not enjoy time with Alana, she would not be asking for her twitter handle, and Katie was probably going to avoid her the rest of the year because Alana had had the audacity to demand she come to the library to study. She was so stupid. No wonder she had no friends.  
“Alana! Are you okay? Wh- what’s wrong?” Zoe appeared around the corner of her building, Alana’s backpack in her hand. She had forgotten to pick it up in her haste to leave. Alana tried to draw herself back into a collected state. She straightened her back, blinked the tears out of her eyes, and lowered her hand from her face to reveal a shaky, strained smile.  
“I’m fine Zoe. Don’t worry about me.” Her voice shook.  
“N-no you’re not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Zoe seemed guarded, as if she thought Alana was going to explode.  
“I’m… fine.” Tears spilled over her eyes from beneath her glasses. “Don’t worry about me. I’m totally cool. It’s nothing.”  
“A-Alana you’re literally crying.” Zoe seemed to gather herself. “Just - tell me what’s wrong!”  
“I’m fi-fine!” A sob finally tore through her throat and her smile withered off her face, turning into a jagged, ugly thing. “I’m to-totally fi-fine! I’m fi-ine…” Hideous, choked sounds filled the suddenly thick air and Alana began to fall into herself, her hands rising up to hide whatever horrible expression she was making.  
Poor Zoe. She was crying in front of her. She didn’t deserve to have to put up with her parents, her brother’s suicide and Evan - and now Alana was just one more burden on her back. She was stupid for thinking she could be strong for her. She was so pathetic.  
Alana heard a thud and felt Zoe pull Alana into a hug. Her arms wrapped tentatively around Alana’s convulsing body before pulling her into a true and proper tight hug. Her voice, shaky and yet still steady, whispered in her ear. “It - it’ll be okay Alana. You’re alright.”  
Zoe was trying to comfort her. Why did Alana have to burden everyone she ever met? Her parents, Katie, Zoe… “I’m sorry, Zoe, you shouldn’t have to deal with me.”  
“D-deal with what? You crying? You’re my friend. What - what do you think friends do?”  
“You- you’re my friend?” Alana hiccuped.  
“Well, what did you think we were, business partners?”  
“Acquaintances, actually.”  
“Oh. Well, we could totally be acquaintances if that’s what you want, I don’t care, I don’t need a friend anywa-”  
Alana wrapped her arms around Zoe’s waist and held onto her tightly. “No, no, I would really like that. To be friends, I mean.”  
“Oh. Okay, good.”  
Zoe didn’t say anything after that; she just held Alana to her, her arms wrapped around her back and her face buried in her neck. Alana leaned against her. She smelled like really expensive laundry detergent. It was nice.  
Alana thought that Zoe was nice in general. She was so strong, to have been through so much and still be this kind. She didn’t complain as Alana wept into her shoulder, or even tried to pull away or leave. She stayed there, as if Alana wasn’t encumbering her. It was sort of like how her parents acted, except that her parents didn’t hold her the same way. The way Zoe held her was more restrained, as if she was afraid Alana might turn against her and hurt her.  
The thought of hurting Zoe was repugnant to Alana. She would never do that, she thought as her breathing evened out. She took a deep breath and extracted herself from Zoe’s arms. Zoe’s neck was wet from where she had cried on her and Alana cracked a watery smile at that. “Sorry,” she murmured.  
Zoe glanced down at it before shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. Do you-”  
“I’m so sorry, for crying on you. You really shouldn’t have to put up with that.”  
“That’s what friends are for,” she said with a shrug.  
“But -”  
“No! No buts. That’s what friends do for each other.”  
“You already have so much to worry about though, I really can’t add to it. You don’t - you shouldn’t to have to worry about me,” Alana said with a strained smile.  
Zoe tilted her head down and gave Alana a disapproving look. “Alana, I’m going to worry about you whether you like it or not. You’re my friend. And I don’t want to see you hurting so, please, just, tell me what’s wrong.”  
Alana couldn’t look away from Zoe. She felt as though Zoe didn’t need her; she didn’t need her to get through whatever pain or grief she was going through. Zoe was strong by herself. She could do anything. Zoe didn’t need her; but here she was, in front of her, and it seemed to Alana that perhaps she wasn’t needed, but rather wanted. Perhaps Zoe wanted Alana. That somehow felt so much for special than being needed.  
“Um…” Alana bit her lip. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be stressing you out?”  
Zoe gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”  
“Okay…” And Alana told Zoe about Katie: how she lent her her notes, how she agreed to a study session, how she stood Alana up. Zoe was a good listener, even though Alana couldn’t have talked for more than five minutes. Her eyebrows were furrowed by the end and she was frowning.  
As Alana heard herself tell the story, she realized how tiny it really was. Alana was so stupid that she started sobbing over Katie not showing up. “That’s so stupid, isn’t it? I mean, who just starts crying because a girl stood you up for a study session?”  
“It’s not stupid Alana. Katie’s a fucking bitch, want me to go fight her?” Zoe joked, nudging Alana gently with a hand. Alana chuckled at that and Zoe smiled.  
“Seriously though Alana, Katie is a little bitch. You shouldn’t waste your time with her.”  
“But what if it really was just an accident though? She could have gotten the time mixed up? Maybe she thought I meant ten at night!”  
“I don’t think that happened. Besides, is the library even open at ten?”  
“It closes at nine. But Katie might not have known that!”  
“Maybe, but, seriously Alana, I don’t think so. You should forget about her.”  
Alana pursed her lips and remained quiet for a second before rolling her eyes. “You’re such a pessimist.”  
Zoe gave her a friendly glare. “Optimists,” she muttered good-naturedly, her lips turned upward in a little smile.  
“So what were you doing at the library anyway?” Alana asked.  
“I don’t know. I wanted to get out of my house and I didn’t know where to go so I just drove here, I guess.”  
“Oh…” Alana thought for a moment. “You know, you don’t have to hang out by yourself! My weekend is typically pretty clean unless for club activities or the Connor Project, but since our main goal is completed I won’t be as busy with that anymore. I mean, I will still be busy, but not as busy. Anyway, the point is, you can always come to me if you want to hang out!”  
“Okay good, because I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out with me today.”  
“Oh, really? In the library?” Alana blinked at her.  
“Actually, maybe we could go to the mall. Like I said, it’s no fun by yourself, but if you go with someone…”  
“I’d love to go to the mall with you! Whose car should we take? Unless we take separate cars? That would make more sense, but at the same time that’s more gas, and more gas means more air pollution, and since our president is an idiot who backed out of the Paris Agreement -”  
“How about we take my car?”  
“Sounds good!”  
Zoe led her back to the parking lot and walked over to a cute blue hatchback parked near the front and swung open the passenger door. “After you.” Zoe gestured inward.  
“Thanks.” Alana ducked inside and Zoe closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat on the other side. They buckled up and Alana took a moment to take in the interior of Zoe’s car. It was very clean in the front, but less so towards the back. In the seats behind them were a guitar case and some sheet music. “Oh! You’re in jazz band. My dad loves jazz. He actually used to be part of a band when he was in high school; he’s got bunches of his old CDs but he never plays them because apparently they’re super embarrassing.”  
“You’re dad sounds cool. What does he play? Or what did he play, unless he’s still playing now. Is he?” Zoe backed the car out of the parking lot and began to drive towards the mall.  
“He still plays, actually! He played guitar in his band he had in high school - he still has it, sometimes he brings it down to play it or tune it or something. He really wanted to do piano when he was young too but his parents couldn’t afford it. That’s why he signed me up for piano lessons!”  
“You can play the piano? That’s so cool.” Zoe smiled.  
“Well,” Alana chewed the inside of her cheek. “Actually I can’t. I sort of stopped playing like, years ago because I lost interest in it but, I was good when I did play it!”  
“I play guitar in case you didn’t know.”  
“I did actually! Are you good at it?”  
“I hope so. I’ve been playing this thing for like, three years now.”  
“Maybe one day you can play for me!”  
Zoe gave a small smile at that. “I’m totally down for that.”  
The two of them found it easy to occupy the forty minute car ride talking like this. With every minute Alana found herself more and more glad to be in Zoe’s company. She carried a sense of fortitude to her that Alana found herself envying. It was as though she could last through anything, while Alana had breakdowns over stupid things like being stood up for a study session.  
There was more to Zoe than just her strength of course. She had many good quips. Alana recalled never seeing Zoe alone before the death of her brother, and it was most likely this likability and humor that ensured her company. Maybe Alana should have tried to be funny instead of helpful. Maybe then people would have hung out with her.  
Alana found herself not needing to fill up the gaps in the conversation, although Zoe always listened to her ramblings. They talked about many things: Zoe’s skills as a guitarist, Alana’s old gymnastics lessons, Alana’s mother only buying her stuffed animals for Christmas every year until she turned fourteen, and Zoe’s deep love for cats.  
“If I had a cat I’d name it Michelle. After Michelle Obama of course,” Alana mused.  
“But you’d only get one cat? What are you, some kind of monster?”  
“I’m a monster if I only get one cat?” Zoe gave her a look as she pulled into the mall’s parking lot. “Okay, fine, I’ll get a second cat and name it Barack. Are you happy?”  
“Yes.” Zoe turned off the engine and unbuckled. “Okay, let’s go.”  
They both hopped out of the car and made their leisure way to the inside of the mall. It was an expansive, air-conditioned building with a set of escalators in the middle. Alana immediately rubbed her arms as they stepped inside. She should have brought a jacket.  
Zoe seemed to be thinking in the same vein. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”  
“It’s freezing!”  
“You know what, I’ve been needing a new jacket anyway. C’mon!”  
Alana’s eyes furrowed as she followed Zoe up the escalator. “Um, where are we going, Zoe?”  
“To get some jackets! I know this really great place - everything I buy from there lasts a really long time.”  
Alana frowned and nodded. Alana wasn’t one to just blow money. Nevertheless, Alana followed after her.  
Zoe led her to an indie clothing store. It seemed to specialize in having a price range larger the Atlantic. Some things were actual good deals, while others were priced so high Alana gawked. Zoe perused the aisles with the air of a familiarity that was slightly off-putting for Alana. Her family wasn’t poor by any means, but they were tightly working class. She would never have frequented a shop like this for herself.  
“What do you think?” Zoe asked, pulling Alana out of her contemplation. She was holding a thick dusty rose coat, valued at thirty dollars. A patterned blouse was slung over her shoulder.  
“It’s very pretty. It suits you!”  
“Really? Maybe I should try it on.” She draped it over her arm and pulled off an anorak jacket off the rack. “What about this one?”  
The price was much higher than the coat. Alana tried not to gape. “It definitely matches your whole fashion vibe!”  
“Okay, I’m going to try these ones. What about you?”  
“Oh, I’m good, thank you.”  
“You said you were freezing earlier,” Zoe said with a frown.  
“Well yes, but I’ve warmed up now!”  
Zoe gave her a skeptical look. “If you say so, I guess. Wait for me out here!” With that  
Zoe scampered to the changing rooms. Alana loitered outside of them, her eyes browsing the dresses hung near her. Some were actual deals; others made it seem as if it cost a great deal of money to look fashionably cheap. One of the dresses was just an oversized t-shirt. Another had a hoodie attached to it.  
None of them were to Alana’s taste. They were too carefree and breezy; completely unprofessional. She could see how Zoe would like them though. She had the expenses to pay for them. Being carefree was something only the rich could afford.  
“Okay, I’m taking this one!” Zoe had reappeared, holding the anorak triumphantly. “You sure you don’t want anything?”  
“I’m sure,” Alana reassured her. Zoe nodded and paid for her jacket and gave the coat and blouse back. She shrugged the anorak on. It looked good on her, Alana realized. Zoe could probably pull off anything in the shop.  
“Alright, c’mon let me take you to the office supplies.”  
The two spent the day roaming the mall, only stopping at a fast food joint for lunch. Zoe dragged Alana into all sorts of stores; mostly clothing ones, but Alana refused to buy anything. She didn’t need any clothes, she told her. Zoe had frowned at that and insisted she buy her a floral-patterned scarf. Alana had done her best to convince her she didn’t need it, but Zoe had a stubborn look in her eye and Alana had given in, rolling her eyes in exasperation.  
Zoe had also insisted Alana tried on a vintage yellow dress. It was cute, but Alana was a bit cautious to try on anything so bright. She had never bought any vibrant colors for the simple reason that she didn’t feel as confident in them as she did in steadfast blue or denim. But Zoe had shoved Alana into the dressing room and when she emerged, Zoe had told her she looked pretty in it. To Alana’s surprise, Zoe had been right. The color was complimentary, but strikingly different from the rest of her wardrobe. Alana refused to buy it, much to Zoe’s admonishment.  
It was all quite pleasant, but the best thing about the day was Zoe’s company. Before she and Zoe had started texting, Alana had met with Zoe exclusively for the Connor Project. She had been closed off and scathing at first; it had been slightly intimidating to work with, but Alana never let it stop her. After she and Evan got together, Zoe seemed to be happier. She was more willing to divulge childhood stories about Connor, she agreed to appear for more videos; sometimes she’d even compliment Alana. Zoe had been brighter and cheerier. When the suicide note was released, however, that joyfulness fell away. From what Alana had heard, Zoe had retreated into her room for two days, refusing to eat or speak. When she left her isolation, she was more angry and bitter than ever. She had acted like everything was fine. She was probably still acting that way, Alana thought, but maybe getting out of the house and indulging in some light-hearted fun with Alana had taken her mind off things.  
Zoe certainly seemed happy now. She had her hands stuffed into her new jacket and was slurping on a chocolate milkshake. Alana considered her as she sipped her own drink. Zoe had the odd paradox of childlike carefreeness and jaundiced disillusionment. You could see both of them in her eyes. It was a disconcerting distinction, but somehow it made sense. Alana thought back to earlier that day, behind the library. Zoe had been borderline skittish around her, and now that Alana considered it, that also made sense. Alana knew that Connor would become angry and violent; he was the one who put the dents in Zoe’s door, after all. He had also cried profusely during his episodes, according to Mrs. Murphy. Zoe had probably been around Connor’s episodes enough to become afraid whenever anyone, even Alana, began to break down. It was a sadistic example of operant conditioning.  
Alana focused her gaze on Zoe again. She had really pretty blue eyes that were crossing slightly as she stared at her straw. She had very long lashes.  
“Hey Alana? You there?” Zoe gave her a nudge with her elbow and Alana gave a start. “You zoned out.”  
“Oh yeah, I was just thinking. You done with your shake?” Alana stood up from her seat and turned to look at Zoe.  
“Yeah. Hey look, Nancy’s is serving dinner. What time is it anyway?”  
Alana checked her phone, surprised to see her father had just texted her. When she saw the time it made sense. “It’s - wow, it’s thirty minutes past seven.”  
“No way!” Zoe pulled out her phone and checked it. “Holy crap, we’ve been here for hours!”  
Alana’s dad was worried about her; Alana texted him that everything was fine, and that she was hanging at the mall with Zoe. She even sent him a photo of her in the yellow dress as confirmation.  
“I should probably get going, my dad’s getting worried,” Alana told Zoe. Zoe nodded, seeming perhaps a little put out.  
“Yeah, me too. My parents are probably going crazy right now.” With a slightly downcast mood they made their way out of the mall and down to the car. The night chill had set into the atmosphere and Alana gave a violent shudder.  
“You should have bought a jacket!”  
“I’m not going to buy a jacket just because I’m cold. I have plenty at home anyway.”  
“You’re going to catch a cold though.” Zoe opened up the passenger door and Alana got in and closed it behind her. She didn’t respond until Zoe was inside and both were buckled up.  
“Excuse you, but I have a great immune system! I spent all of Wednesday running around in the rain in just a dress and I was totally fine.”  
“You spent a whole day in the rain? Why?” Zoe backed out of the parking lot and began to drive back towards the library.  
“I had an off morning and didn’t have time to check the weather when I got dressed. I highly recommend never doing that, it was not fun.”  
“It doesn’t sound like it.”  
The conversation faded away after that. Zoe had flipped on some indie station that she appeared to enjoy. Her shoulders bobbed in time to the songs. Alana had found herself staring out the window, her eyes glazing over. Occasionally she would glance at Zoe, whose eyes were focused on the road. She was good driver.  
Soon the two were pulling into the library parking lot where Alana’s car was neatly tucked into a spot. Alana pointed Zoe to her car and Zoe pulled up next to it. Zoe turned to face Alana. She looked tired and hesitant, as if she didn’t want to go back home.  
For a moment Alana felt the urge to invite Zoe to her place. It might be nice for her, to be able to get away from her parents and that dented door for even a small while.  
Alana took a deep breath. “D-”  
“Thanks for hanging out with me today. I really appreciated it.” Zoe was giving her a tired smile.  
“Oh, it’s no problem! Thank you for, well, you know. Helping me earlier and taking me to the mall. And getting me this scarf!” Alana held up an end of it.  
Zoe snorted at that. “Don’t worry about it. It was really nice to hang out with you, Alana. I’ll um, text you later?”  
“Yes! Yes, I would like that.”  
“Alright, good. I was going to do it anyway, so. Bye!”  
Alana hopped out of the car and closed the door behind her. Zoe backed out and drove out of the parking lot and back towards her house. Alana stood there for a moment, shivering in the cold. The evening air was brisk but not unwelcome, and Alana took it into her lungs. As she got into her car and drove off, Alana realized how glad she was that Katie didn’t show. It allowed her to spend a day with Zoe, even if she was prone to being a pessimist sometimes.  
Zoe really should be more optimistic. After all, Alana’s day had been going terribly until Zoe showed up and reminded her that there was a good side to everything. Zoe deserved to remember that too. Perhaps Alana could try to give that to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did this chapter take so long. i think it turned out okay. i know my actual writing skills are terrible but hopefully the plot is keeping y'all invested. i hope i did zoe (my girl!!!) justice. also i saw the character descriptions and i'm pretty impressed with how i characterized alana.   
> i did so much research for their clothing. respect the costume department y'all.   
> okay, well thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! if not, tell me why! if you did, tell me why! have a great time.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: bullying

The weekend was over too quickly for Alana’s taste. Too soon was her phone beeping in her face and rousing her from the first bit of good sleep she had had in awhile. Nevertheless, Alana shook off her sleepiness and immediately dove into work. Now that she had Evan back on her side, she could implement her normal schedule again. She had control. She was even able to finally clean the downstairs mirror before she left for school with the floral scarf from Zoe wrapped around her despite the warmth of the weather.  
When Alana pulled into the school parking lot, she was pleasantly surprised by a familiar blue hatchback parked at the back. Zoe had managed to work her magic and convince her father to let her go to school. She would be seeing Zoe today.  
Alana practically skipped out of the car when she parked it, her backpack thudding against her back as she made her way into the school. Her eyes scanned the hallway; there were gaggles of freshmen bunched up in corners; babbling sophomores strode down the halls in packs; juniors were dispersed into pairs; and most seniors were leaning against lockers, talking to companions and occasionally barking a laugh.  
Alana was not looking for seniors however. She was looking for a particular junior, who she spotted near the end of the hall. Zoe was looking down at her phone with an unreadable expression. Sets of eyes looked towards her furtively before tearing away, as if looking at Zoe for too long was going to burn their retinas irreparably. If Zoe was bothered by this, she didn’t show it. It was oddly reminiscent of her brother, in a way. He too had pretended not to be bothered by impolite gestures that made him a spectacle; however, he tended to show his apathy by vanishing from the halls. Zoe had chosen to make herself busy with her phone.  
Those looks would still be bothering Zoe though, Alana thought. How could they not? They were shameless inquiries that blamed Zoe for her brother’s death. The longer Alana thought about it, the more irritated she got towards their classmates. Zoe was not a display to oogle at.  
Alana quickly made her way down the hall towards Zoe, who was staring down at a text on her phone. Her eyes were fixed in one spot on the screen. She wasn’t reading it anymore.  
She was alert enough to notice Alana’s arrival. She looked up at her and gave her a smile.  
“Hey Alana.”  
“Good morning Zoe! You’re back at school! Did you manage to convince your dad? I mean, of course you convinced him, or else you wouldn’t be here. Silly me! Are you happy to be back?”  
Zoe gave her a dazed look, as if her tired self couldn’t quite keep up with Alana’s speed talking. “Uh yeah, it’s nice. It’s so much better than being in my house all the time.”  
“Yes, I imagine so. Is that your mom texting you?” Alana craned her neck to try to see the text better.  
Zoe made her screen go black. “Yep. But uh, it’s actually really rude to just start reading someone’s texts without permission, Alana.”  
Alana aghasted. “Oh my god I am so sorry Zoe! You’re totally right; that was so rude! I promise I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry!”  
“It’s okay, Lana. Can I call you Lana?”  
“Yes! I’ve never had a nickname before. Well, Mr. Roberts does call me Beck, but I don’t think that really counts as a nickname because it’s my last name.”  
Zoe nodded along to Alana’s babbling. “Well, I am honored to be the giver of your first nickname.” She did a little mock bow at the end, which was ridiculous enough to make Alana giggle a bit.  
“Can I give you a nickname? Can I call you ZoZo then?”  
“ZoZo?” Zoe’s eyebrows arched up.  
“Don’t judge my nicknaming skills! I’ve never nicknamed anyone before!”  
“Okay, okay, you can call me ZoZo.” Zoe bumped Alana with her shoulder.  
There was a small pause in the conversation where Alana was unable to find something witty or engaging to say to that. Zoe was turning her eyes down to glance at her phone, her attention drifting away from Alana, who was trying to find something to strike up a conversation about. Her eyes flitted around the hall, landing on posters protesting bullying, the drab color of the walls, Evan’s locker - which she had first memorized after they made the Connor Project. His arm was still in a cast at the time because he had broken his bone falling out a tree, sort of like her grandma with her hip. Which reminded her -  
“My grandmother died this summer!”  
Zoe started and dropped her phone. It hit the ground with a loud clatter.  
“Oh my god, let me get that for you!” Alana picked up Zoe’s phone and handed it back to her. “Anyway, she broke her hip getting out of the bathtub in July. The doctors said that was the beginning of the end because then, she DIED. Now my mom has all of this business with the realtor…” Alana chattered on the subject for several minutes, Zoe nodding along blankly, as if Alana’s sudden outburst of enthusiasm had caught her off guard. Her mouth hung open slightly, and Alana ignored the urge to put her hand on her chin and shut it for her.  
Alana was in the middle of describing the garage sale that would be selling her grandmother’s things when Zoe cut in. “Alana, I love talking to you and all, but talking about your dead grandmother isn’t really what I had in mind for conversation pieces.”  
Oh. Of course Zoe didn’t want to talk about her dead grandmother. Alana was so stupid.“Oh of course; silly me!”  
“You know, you talk a lot more at school then you did at the mall.” Zoe said absentmindedly.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean like, at the mall you seemed a lot more relaxed. Not that you don’t seem relaxed here, but you, well - you don’t seem relaxed here.”  
Alana blinked. She didn’t know how to respond to that.  
“Did I creep you out?” Zoe gave an awkward chuckle and rubbed her arms.  
“No! No, it’s just - I never noticed.”  
Zoe put her hand on Alana’s arm. “Well, just, chill. There’s no pressure.”  
“I’m very chill!” Alana shouted. “I mean, I’m very… chill.” She lounged against the lockers like one of those popular girls she used to drool over, from one of those eighties movies. “See?”  
“Oh yeah, so chill.” Zoe leaned against the lockers with her. She took in the room, glaring at the onlookers who had the misfortune to meet her eyes. Alana would have glared at them too, but she didn’t have a frightening look she could pull, or the reputation to back such a face.  
“So what was your mom texting you about?”  
“Nothing. She’s just worried about me, I guess.”  
“It’s nice that she cares.”  
Zoe scoffed. “Yeah.”  
Alana looked at Zoe with furrowed brow. “What?”  
Zoe didn’t meet her gaze. Instead she just breathed out a sigh. “Nothing.”  
“Well, it’s obviously not nothing. What’s wrong?”  
“Can we just not talk about it?”  
Alana pursed her lips together. “Zoe, you can’t hide from your problems. Just tell me what’s wrong.”  
“Nothing’s wrong, Alana, jeez. I can’t just not want to talk about something?”  
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”  
Zoe turned to face her, arms crossed. “Why do you want to talk about it?  
“Well, because we’re friends and friends share their problems with each other.”  
“Yeah, well I don’t want to share. You’re not a fucking therapist Alana. Just leave me alone.” Zoe snapped and took off down the hall, ignoring the now unabashed stares. Alana stared after her, speechless, and watched her push her way through the doors at the end of the hallway as the bell rung out. She stood rooted to the spot for a moment; then, blinking furiously, she went to her first class.  
That period, and the one after that, and the one after that, existed in a dimension that was not held captive by the laws of time. They seemed to pass both sluggishly and quickly. Alana couldn't bring herself to focus on her classes, or ask and answer questions, or even nod along. Instead she replayed her and Zoe’s conversation over and over and bit her lip. Alana shouldn’t have pressed Zoe, she knew now. It was stupid and rude. Zoe had what must feel like the world against her; Alana didn’t need to add to that strain. It didn’t change the fact that Alana had a point, though! Zoe couldn’t just cower from her problems. She was stronger than that. Alana doubted that she would ever get the chance to broach the subject again, or even just share a moment with Zoe. She had spent enough time with her for the Connor Project to know of Zoe’s prominent black-and-white view. She was not forgiving.  
But perhaps she was exaggerating. Maybe Zoe still wanted her! It was a possibility, and it was one that Alana would capitalize on. Zoe still wanted to be her friend. Alana was overthinking it, of course. Zoe would forgive her. She would.  
It was this thought that spurred her from her seat at third period when the bell rang and had her make her way into the cafeteria. She could start her search for Zoe there, and then expand outward to other hotspots for teenage activities.  
The cafeteria was crowded with starving students, and Alana had to fight through the throngs to be able to get a clear view of the room. She shoved her way to the center. The tables nearest to her were fully occupied with sophomores and juniors, but none of them were Zoe. Alana glanced over the farther tables near the entrance. They were more sparsely occupied by unfamiliar faces.  
The tables toward the rear of the cafeteria were the most deserted. Most only had one or two people sat at them. The one farthest from her had no one at all.  
Zoe wasn’t at the cafeteria. That was reasonable, now that Alana thought about it. It was one of the most busy places at school, and that meant Zoe would be stared at more. Perhaps she was hiding out behind the bathrooms like Alana was prone to occasionally.  
Alana worked her way through the crowd and went out the exit and into the open air. It was a relief to finally be free of the crowd, but the emptiness of the campus pressed in upon her. She couldn’t spot Zoe from here. Alana began to roam the campus, ignoring the building of her heartbeat as she ducked behind each building to only be faced with vacancy. She could feel it pounding in her throat, making it hard to swallow. The prospect of losing her first friend seemed to do that to her, she thought wryly. She wiped her palms on her pants.  
Eventually Alana found herself by the most distant and isolated bathroom on campus. It was by the edge of campus, farthest from the parking lot, and overlooking the undeveloped land next to the school. It was like a small forest, slowly descending into towering trees with branches that scraped clouds. It was pretty, but its long shadows had always intimidated Alana. Evan, on the other hand, was quite fond of it. He used to stare longingly out at the woods, looking as if one day he was going to hop the fence separating the campus from them and go live out the rest of his days as some forest hermit. He liked to escape into nature, Alana noticed.  
It was by this bathroom that Alana found Zoe sitting down against the wall in the shadow of the awning. Her lunch sat uneaten by her feet.  
“Hi, Zoe.” Alana hovered uncertainly at the corner of the building.  
Zoe glanced up at her once and then looked down at her hands. She had been picking at her cuticles. “Hey Alana.”  
Alana took another look around. From Zoe’s perspective, the only thing in sight were the trees. She wondered if they reminded her of Evan too.  
Zoe was still staring at her hands. Alana took a breath and approached slowly, as if Zoe was some woodland animal that might startle back to the trees. When she was about five feet away she stopped and gestured to the space beside Zoe. “Could I sit here?”  
She shrugged. “Sure.”  
Alana sat down and stared at the trees, waiting to see if Zoe was going to speak. She peeked at her out of the corner of her eye. She was frowning down at her hands still, her mouth relaxed but closed.  
The quiet hung suspended in the air for a moment as Alana worked up the courage to say something. What, she wasn’t exactly sure, but Alana couldn’t just give up on their friendship.  
Lunch would be over soon. The warning bell would ring out any minute.  
Alana took a breath. “I -”  
The bell cut her off and her voice disappeared into the air. Her squeak had gotten Zoe to look up at her though. Her eyes weren’t angry anymore, just tired. It was a tiredness that looked familiar. She had seen it before.  
“I’ve got to go to class,” she said, and stood up. Alana remained sitting. Zoe gathered her things and began to walk back to the classrooms.  
Alana stared at her, mouth hanging open. She started from her position on the ground. “Wait!”” Zoe turned around. “Can you meet me here after school?”  
Zoe glanced around. “Uh, sure.” And Zoe walked away. Alana watched her.  
Worry was creeping up on her again. That tiredness in Zoe, it was so familiar, she had seen it before. She couldn’t remember when or on who, but it was troublesome. Zoe was too young, too bright, to look so tired. She shouldn’t ever look like that.  
At least Zoe agreed to meet her though! Alana thought as she made her way to fourth period. She could bring it up with her - though that might not be wise, considering what happened that morning.  
“So.”  
Jared Kleinman had materialized in the hallway Alana had made her way into. He had his arms crossed and was frowning as he stood directly in front of her. For a moment Alana couldn’t place why he was there. Then memories of their argument resurfaced. Guilt worried her stomach.  
“Listen Jared, I’m -”  
“Save the spiel, Alana. I’m only here because Evan made me.”  
Alana tilted her head to the side. “Made you what?”  
“I can’t believe you’re going to drag it out of me!” Jared gasped, throwing his hands into the air. “Ugh. I’m sorry. There.”  
“You’re sorry?” Alana gaped at him.  
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Apparently I was being ‘rude’ when I told you to fuck off last week, so there. I’m sorry. Okay?”  
Alana blinked. “Okay.”  
“Fine. But seriously, if you keep fucking with Evan…” He trailed off threateningly, as though he thought that he could be frightening in his Star Wars shirt and capris.  
“I promise I won’t try to hurt Evan.” Alana said. She sighed before continuing. “And I’m sorry for snapping at you on the phone. I shouldn’t have done that.”  
“Yeah you shouldn’t have.” Jared let out a huff and studied the ground for a moment. He seemed to be at a loss for what to say. “Uh, see you, I guess.” He sashayed away from her, his hands in his pockets.  
“It’s always a pleasure talking to you Jared!” Alana called after him, fixing a smile to her face. He was a complicated person.  
Fourth and fifth period were occupied with thoughts of meeting Zoe later. She tapped her pencil against her notebook and was as unfocused as she had been during the first half of the day. Alana was still in this trance in the final class of the day; Mr. Roberts.  
He was in his usual grouchy mood, Alana could tell, and although his eyes occasionally pricked at her, she didn’t feel as worried as she should have. She could only think of Zoe. Mr. Roberts must have been halfway through his lesson when he finally called attention to her.  
“Care to join us, Beck?”  
Alana snapped her head up from staring at her desk. “Sorry, Mr. Roberts. I was just -”  
“I don’t care about your excuses Beck. I thought you were supposed to be smart. That’s the only reason people talk to you, isn’t it?”  
Alana could feel the stare of her classmates burning her skin. “Sorry, Mr. Roberts.” She fought to keep her voice steady.  
“You didn’t answer my question.”  
“What?” Their stares were making bile rise in her throat.  
“The only reason people talk to you is because you’re smart!”  
She swallowed around the bile. “Oh! I actually think that it’s because -”  
“Now you think, do you? You weren’t thinking in my class five minutes ago. You were staring out the window, daydreaming!” He slammed his hands on his desk and the class jumped. Alana fastened her gaze to her desk.  
“I’m sorry, sir.” She felt nauseous.  
“Yeah, I bet you are. You’ve taken up enough of the class’s time anyway. Let’s get back to the topic.” He finally turned his pale, watery eyes away from her and back to the board. Alana hid her burning cheeks and tried to ignore the sickness that was building in her stomach. She began to take notes.  
People were still staring at her, trying to catch a glimpse of her burning cheeks through her hair that she let shield her face. The class dragged on, minutes becoming hours, and she was aware of the ticking clock in the corner of the room. She needed this lesson to be over. She had to see Zoe.  
The bell rung. Alana bolted from her seat and was the first out the door. It felt like everyone was looking at her.  
She made her way to her locker, slowly becoming engulfed by the crowd of students. They couldn’t have known what Mr. Roberts had said to her, but it still felt like they were staring at her as she opened her locker and exchanged supplies.  
Mr. Roberts! That mean, vile old man! Did he get his rocks off of bullying his students! He should be fired. His words were sunk into her brain. Alana’s hands hesitated as she zipped up her backpack. Was he wrong?  
Alana pushed that thought aside. She didn’t have time to think about that. She needed to get to Zoe! She would be expecting her.  
Alana closed her locker and shoved her way to the back door. Some people had already made their way outside and were now lounging about in groups, talking about their days. As Alana made her way to the bathroom, the people grew less and less common. When she arrived at the bathroom there was only her, the trees, and a very focused murder of crows.  
She sat down against the bathroom and watched the crows. They were pecking at the grass, occasionally lifting their heads up from whatever they were searching for to give a loud caw.  
Mr. Roberts’ words filled her head again. The more she thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t wrong, was he? Evan and Jared had hung out with her exclusively for the Connor Project. People only ever talked to her when they wanted something, like her notebooks or information. Alana made herself as accessible as she possibly can, but she knew that if she checked her twitter right now there would be no messages waiting for her.  
But that was wrong! People wanted Alana for fun, she was sure. She occasionally got those mass invites for parties for clubs! They might have never invited her to anything again except excessively formal events hosted by parents, but they did want her there the first time! Mr. Roberts was wrong. People didn’t just talk to her because she was smart. They didn’t.  
Alana focused on the crows. One of them gave a caw and flew into the sky. That wasn’t true, was it? She was -  
Alana stopped that thought. She couldn’t think that.  
She wasn’t lying to herself. Mr. Roberts was just a bitter old man who liked being mean. That was all.  
People wanted her, she decided. Evan came back to her. Jared apologized, although he was forced to. Zoe was willing to meet her. It felt as though she was grasping at straws, but Alana clung onto those three people with a white-knuckled grip. They wanted her, she hoped.  
“How interesting are those crows?”  
Alana lifted her eyes from the murder and looked up at Zoe. She had the same tiredness in her eyes that Alana couldn’t place but was familiar nonetheless.  
“You’ve been staring at them like, since I got here,” Zoe added. Alana stopped thinking about Zoe’s eyes and pushed herself off the ground.  
“They’re uh - pretty interesting,” Alana said dumbly. She took a deep breath before Zoe could respond. “Listen, I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have pushed you; I was over the line. I should have respected your boundaries.”  
“Yeah, you should have.” Zoe sighed. “But I forgive you.”  
Her forgiveness didn’t assuage Alana’s worry as much as it should have. Zoe was not a forgiving person. If Alana thought about it - and she had, on occasion - it would be because of Connor. He made it dangerous for her to forgive, she thought.  
That was what was going through Alana’s mind as she processed Zoe’s words and stared into her eyes. Her tired, tired eyes, the familiarity of them pressing into the back of her conscious. She suddenly could put a finger on one of the occasions she had seen that look in Zoe’s face before. It had been following their argument at the library. When Alana went to apologize to her, she had the same tiredness in her, as if she was too exhausted to fight. It was more than troublesome now; it was a hint of something detrimental.  
“Are you okay, Zoe?” Alana asked.  
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Zoe moved next to Alana and sat down. Alana sat down beside her and bit her lip.  
“Zoe, I know I’m pushing it, but you don’t look fine.”  
Zoe looked at her. Her eyes flickered from Alana’s eyes to where her teeth dug into her lip. She turned her gaze to the crows.  
“I’m just tired. All the time. Connor -” Zoe broke off and stared intensely at the crow closest to them. “I just - please don’t make me talk about it.”  
Alana studied her profile. Her eyes were hard, her jaw clenched together. Her eyes were wet. “Okay,” she said.  
The two sat in understanding silence for a while and stared at the crows. Alana knew she was missing one of her clubs that meet every other week, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave Zoe.  
Zoe’s head fell to Alana’s shoulder. “So how was your day?” she asked. “Mine was pretty shitty. People stared more than I thought they would.”  
“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, my day didn’t go well either.”  
“What happened with you?”  
“Mr. Roberts was a bitter old man again. He insulted me in the middle of class!” One of the crows flew away past a hummingbird who was getting nectar from a flower. Its wings glittered.  
“What did he say?”  
With great reluctance, Alana told Zoe what Mr. Roberts had said. It felt odd to share his words with her. She wasn’t used to an attentive presence outside her parents.  
By the end of her explanation, Zoe was furious. “What a dick! I’m gonna fight him for you.”  
Alana chuckled. “No don’t! You’ll get in trouble with the school board.”  
“So what! He’s got it coming!”  
The two continued to laugh and watch the crows slowly leave the ground. The hummingbird was still buzzing about, searching for more flowers. Alana should put up a hummingbird feeder she thought.  
Alana quickly glanced at Zoe. She was watching the hummingbird too. “You know you can tell me anything right?”  
Zoe hesitated. “Yeah.”  
“Whenever you want.”  
Zoe nodded into Alana’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend Alana. Thank you.”  
Alana smiled to herself. “Thank you, ZoZo.”  
“I can’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”  
Alana nudged her. “It’s a good nickname!”  
“No, it isn’t, Lana.”  
“Is too.”  
“Is not.”  
“Is too!”  
“Is not!”  
The hummingbird stayed with them throughout all of their talks, searching for nectar and never once hiding from them. Alana thought it was a brave little thing. If Alana was one to believe in symbolism, she might have said that it was a good omen. After all, she had read once that hummingbirds stood for persistence and healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you'd thought you'd seen the last of me! actually it turns out i had depression so i had to have my meds adjusted and had to work that out and stuff. so i've been a bit busy to update, but now i am back! here it is. i found this chapter hard to write. but i think i'm improving!   
> i love zoe and she really needs to be appreciated. she needs some healing.  
> alana is precious and has no sense of boundaries.  
> jared loves evan. he would bend backwards for him at the moment.  
> thank you for reading! i hoped you liked it! tell me about what you liked and didn't like in the comments! and yes, i'm thinking of making hummingbirds a recurring theme in this. as well as crows. i love crows. i love hummingbirds. and i love that you read this! thank you so much! its an honor! i hope you enjoyed! once more, thank you!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of death and also crying

“And you even edited the video! This is really well done. The community is going to love this, Evan.”  
Alana could make out Evan ducking his pixelated head in the screen. Just fifteen minutes ago Evan had skyped her to share with her the thank you video he shot. She had been surprised when he contacted her; typically she was the one who called him. It wasn’t unwelcome, however.  
“Yeah, I figured it would, uh, be easier if I edited it.” He fiddled with his shirt hem.  
“Great. I’ll upload it later today. Now, I know I already asked, but are you sure you don’t want to come help me shoot the orchard video tomorrow?” Two days ago Alana had received an email from the Murphys confirming that they would be okay with shooting a video in the orchard before reconstruction. She had scheduled it as soon as possible, which was Sunday tomorrow. She planned to shoot the entire thing then and edit it in the same day. It was ambitious of her, but it could be done.  
“Oh yeah, I-I’m sure. I mean, I’m busy anyways, so.”  
“Oh, you’re busy? Doing what?”  
Evan’s eyes darted around his room. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing really, it’s just that my mom is getting me a dog and she uh - she took time off work tomorrow so we can look at our choices.”  
“You’re getting a dog?” Alana exclaimed.  
“Um, yeah.”  
“Oh my god, that’s adorable! I personally love dogs! I think they’re the best; they’re so loyal and sweet. Are you getting it from a shelter?”  
“Y-yep -”  
“That’s wonderful! You know, I should totally come. Dogs love me. I think I have animal magnetism.”  
“You-You’re coming?”  
“Of course!”  
“Oh - okay. Sure. I’ll just have to tell my mom that you want to uh, come when we get the dog.”  
“When will that be?”  
“Oh uh - we don’t actually know yet? Sorry.”  
“It’s okay, just be sure to update me when you do know. I’m so glad you’re getting a dog Evan! They’re such incredible creatures. You’re going to love yours.”  
“I hope so. ”  
“I know so!” Alana glanced at the time. “Anyways, I should get going, I have a date - well it’s not an actual date, silly me. It’s just a meeting with a friend of mine. It was lovely talking to you Evan! Enjoy looking for your perfect dog!”  
“I-I will. Bye!” The call hung up.

Alana gave a contented sigh and smoothed her dress. Earlier in the week, Zoe had invited Alana out shopping, but Alana had insisted at stopping by Zoe’s house first. She refused to tell Zoe why; it was a surprise for her.  
Alana checked her bag one last time before leaving her room. She had packed her phone, chapstick, a measuring tape, emergency menstrual supplies, and a first aid kit. One could never be too careful, as her parents said.  
She swung the bag over her shoulder and went down the stairs. Her mom was sat at the table on the computer; doing work in some form or another, most likely. She glanced up when she heard Alana’s shoes touch the floor.  
“I’m going to Zoe’s, mom!” Alana stopped in front of the table, smiling.  
“Zoe’s that girl that you never stop talking about, right? You really like her, huh? When do we get to meet her?”  
“Oh please, mom, me and Zoe have only been friends for a little over a week.”  
“But you’ve known each other for months!”  
“Yes, but that was strictly professional. Our relationship now is, well, friendly.”  
“I’m just saying, the way you talk about her constantly -”  
“I don’t talk about her constantly!”  
“- it sounds like you like her a lot for only having been friends ‘a little over a week.’”  
Alana bit her lip and looked around the room.“Well, Zoe’s a really good person mom. She’s so warm and she makes me feel so… safe. And she looks after me even though I know she’s afraid, and she tells me when I’m being rude - but not meanly, you know - just so carefully. And she doesn’t think what I get upset about is stupid. She forgives me. I know I’ve only known her - like, actually gotten to know her - for a week, but I like who she is. Or who she’s shown me to be, at least. She’s really funny too. I just - I know I don’t really know her, not yet, but I want to know everything about her, you know? She deserves someone to be there for her no matter what, and I just - I think it would be an honor if I could be that person.”  
Her mother stared at her, her eyes blinking slowly at Alana. Her mouth hung open slightly until it slowly curled into a knowing smile. “...So when do I get to meet her?”  
“Mom!”  
“Okay Alana, okay. I’m just saying, this girl is important to you. And I want to meet her.”  
Alana sighed. “Maybe I’ll invite her over for dinner. Okay?”  
“Good. Now go have fun with your friend! Stay safe!”  
“I will. Bye mom! I love you!” Alana left her mom smiling impishly at the table. She heard her tell her she loved her too just as she closed the front door behind her.Now Alana stood in the full brightness of late morning, the sun shining merrily on the street. There were birds chirping in the trees and the occasional rumble of a car. Alana had a pleasant feeling in her heart. Today was going to be good.

 

The drive to Zoe’s was pleasant as the morning. Soon she was stopped outside of the large imposing house. It was often too spacious and cold to be comforting, but in the amiable morning air, even the house seemed more welcoming. Alana noted the well-manicured lawn and tidy walkway as she made her way out of her car and onto the porch. They must have someone mow their lawn, Alana thought.

Alana had barely knocked her fist on the door when Zoe appeared, looking more bedraggled than usual. Her hair was pulled into a haphazard bun and there was flour that covered her hands and was smeared on her cheeks. There were fresh stains on her t-shirt and jeans as well. It was an oddly charming look; it was as if she was the baker’s daughter in one of those old fairy tales that Disney adapted to have a happy ending instead of a gorey and murderous end. Even the apologetic look on her face had a country charm to it, although the earnestness of it filled Alana with a sense of trepidation.“I’m sorry - I tried to stop her but -”  
“Alana!” Mrs. Murphy swung into view, her smile natural, as if she had managed, if only for a moment, to forget all her pain. She was in a disheveled state that resembled her daughter’s. “Come in dear, come on in!”  
Alana entered the Murphy house and smiled at Mrs. Murphy. “Hello, Mrs. Murphy -”  
“Cynthia!”  
“Cynthia. It’s nice to see you again!”  
“Oh, it’s so nice to see you too Alana. Zoe told me you were coming over and - well, I’ve taken up baking recently, so I thought it would be a nice surprise if you had some homemade goodies to eat up.”  
Zoe appeared behind Mrs. Murphy’s shoulder and gave Alana a warning look. Alana had heard many cautionary tales about Mrs. Murphy’s cooking, despite never actually sampling it for herself. Both Evan and Zoe had told her about its inedibility. But despite their cautions, Alana found herself nodding along to Mrs. Murphy’s request.  
“I’d love to try some of your baking!”  
Zoe jokingly rolled her eyes and smirked at her. Mrs. Murphy smiled even wider and led the way into the kitchen. Alana closed the door and followed after her, Zoe trailing behind.  
The kitchen had apparently become a prototype bakery. The heavy scent of lemon and chocolate perfumed the air, radiating from the table ladened with pastries. It was covered in trays of cookies, three pies, a box of donuts, lemon squares, and one large double decker chocolate cake that glistened in the center. Mrs. Murphy stood at the head of the table, beaming down at everything she had made.  
“Wow, you baked a lot!” Alana could feel her eyes widen like saucers.  
“Yeah. I just started and I couldn’t stop. It’s so much fun. I know it isn’t the healthiest thing for you, but it’s something we can do as a family, you know?"  
“As a family?” Alana questioned.  
“Oh, Zoe came in after I had made my first batch of cookies and I roped her into helping me,” she explained, looking at Zoe, who was stood near the table, lovingly.  
“I made the lemon squares and the chocolate chip cookies,” Zoe explained, pointing at the slightly burnt cookies nearest to Alana. Alana bunched up her eyebrows but smiled at Zoe.  
“I bet they’re delicious!”  
“Then give them a try!”  
Alana avoided the more dubious chocolate chip cookies in favor for a lemon square. It looked very moist and had an abundance of powdered sugar on top.Alana took a small bite. The taste of lemon flooded her tongue, the soft center immediately becoming a gooey, pasty substance. The sugar stuck to the roof of her mouth. Alana forced herself from gagging.  
Alana gave Zoe a strained smile. “It’s so good!” she exclaimed.  
Zoe quirked an eyebrow at her. “I can tell by the way you’re trying not to wretch.” She took a lemon square. “They can’t be that bad, can they?”  
“I’m sure they’re not, Zoe.” Mrs. Murphy said.  
Zoe shrugged and took a rather large bite out of the square. Her face bunched up in displeasure and she gagged. “That’s disgusting!”  
“Yeah,” Alana nodded.  
“Never let me bake again!” Zoe set the bitten lemon square back on the tray. Alana put hers down next to Zoe’s.  
“All you need is a bit of practice!” Cynthia patted Zoe’s shoulder before looking at Alana. “Go ahead dear, help yourself. Just don’t touch the chocolate chip or lemon squares, I guess.”  
Alana plucked a sugar cookie from the table and took a bite. Surprisingly, they were quite delicious. Alana gave Mrs. Murphy a smile. “These are great, Cynthia!”  
“Oh, thank you Alana. Zoe and Co-”  
Mrs. Murphy stopped dead in the sentence and blinked furiously. “I mean Zoe and well - and her - her - Connor -” she broke off again, her eyes wet. Zoe was glaring at the floor, her jaw tight.  
“Ex-excuse me,” Mrs. Murphy choked out, running out of the kitchen and disappearing down a hallway. Alana heard an echo of a sob.  
The sugar cookie tasted like dust all of a sudden. Alana set it down on the table. She could imagine him, sitting at this table with his family. She had seen his baby pictures before. She could picture him running down that stairway when he was younger then when he died. She could almost hear his laugh, even though she had never heard it. She hoped it had been a light, tinkling sound, like wind chimes. She could almost hear his footsteps on the floor. Even though he was dead, he was still there.  
Zoe was was standing still, pale. Her eyes were wet.  
“Zoe…”  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Alana.” Her voice was taunt. Alana watched her from across the table before going to stand at her side. She studied Zoe’s face. She was staring at the ground, eyes cold. Her hands gripped the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles were white.  
Alana put her hand gently on her back and rubbed circles into it. “Okay,” she murmured, looking towards the table.  
She felt Zoe relax and saw, out of the corner of her eye, her hands loosen on the chair. She heard her breathing grow slightly ragged.  
“He… he hated me,” she whispered.  
“No, no he didn’t hate you, Zoe. He just didn’t know how to talk to you.”  
Zoe let out a bitter, cynical laugh that was piercing. “Yeah, right. He hated me. Well, fuck him!” She ripped herself from the table and took up the stairs, sounding like she was choking. The hand that had been rubbing Zoe’s back felt cold.  
Slowly, as if she had just woken up, Alana followed after her. She looked at the pictures on the wall. There was a photo of a tiny Zoe and Connor grouped around a Christmas tree. The picture hanging next to it was a family photo. Everyone was dressed nicely and had smiles plastered onto their face - except Connor. He was dressed in old, ragged clothing and was glaring at the camera. His eyes were red.  
Alana ran the rest of the way up.  
When she came to Zoe’s door she stopped, panting. It’s dented surface was an echo of him. She ran her fingers over the edges. She guessed it was eighty inches by thirty-six, as per the standard. She fished out the measuring tape just to be sure.  
It was exactly eighty inches by thirty-six. She put the tape measure back in her bag.  
She could hear hiccuping sobs through the door. Alana’s hand hovered near the handle. “Zoe?” she asked.  
She pushed the door open hesitantly, and Alana found Zoe bunched up on her bed, head tucked into a pillow, her sobbing just beginning to subside. Alana quietly crossed the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. She looked at her.  
Zoe was very close to her. Alana could extend a hand and rub circles into her back if she wanted. Her hand lifted slightly towards Zoe, but it didn’t go any further. She dropped her hand back to her lap.  
The quiet was thick. Alana couldn’t make herself speak or try to comfort Zoe. She looked at her in helplessness, disturbed by the sound of her muffled crying.  
Alana shifted her eyes out to the room. It should be cozy, but it felt alien to Alana. It didn’t seem like Zoe. It was as if her presence had retreated from its furnishings, and now it was cold and empty, remnant of who she used to be.  
The door stood ajar.  
That damn door. How was it even possible to dent a door? How did Connor, an unhealthily thin, bony child, slam his shaking fists into his sister’s door hard enough to curve the surface? How did throwing a printer in second grade create a leper who would kill himself ten years later? Why did he die? He had been so young. He had his whole life before him. And no one helped him. Alana didn’t help him.  
Zoe was quiet now. The silence was worse.  
Alana looked at Zoe and then back to the door. She could almost hear him screaming, feel the shudder of the door as he rammed his bones against it, and she could see Zoe huddled just like she was now, crying into a pillow, waiting for him to go away. There would have been no winners on that day; but damn him. Damn him for doing that to his sister. She deserved better, and he had too. But it was too late for him.  
Alana rubbed a hand against her cheek. She had been crying.  
The silence continued.  
“I’m sorry,” Alana finally said.  
Zoe didn’t respond. Alana could see her out of the corner of her eye still. She had buried her head deeper into the pillow. Her hair had fallen out of its bun and was spread onto the bed. Hesitantly, Alana reached out a hand and touched Zoe’s back gently.  
Zoe shifted and squirmed. Alana drew her hand back to her lap and sat there with Zoe. She wasn’t going to leave her alone like this.  
Alana had been staring down at her hands again when Zoe spoke up.  
“Sorry for ruining your day.”  
Alana turned to Zoe, surprised. “Oh no, you didn’t ruin my day.” Alana tentatively touched Zoe’s back again, and when Zoe didn’t shift away, she rubbed circles into it. “I...” Alana trailed off. She couldn’t find the words to tell Zoe how she felt. “I just… if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”  
“You say that a lot.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.  
“Well, maybe you need to hear it a lot.”  
Zoe unfurled from the pillow and sat up, sighing. Flour was smeared on her bed. “Maybe. I think I’m just going to stay here, maybe shower and cry some more. You can go.” She chuckled dryly.  
“I can stay. If you want me to, that is.”  
Zoe shuffled off the bed. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower right now so you can just… do whatever.”  
“I’ll just stay here.”  
“Okay.” Zoe left the room and closed the door behind her.  
The room suddenly felt very empty and Alana felt very small, as if she had eaten the mushroom that made you shrink from Alice in Wonderland. She was looking up at everything.  
Alana wanted her mom. She wanted her here, right now, to fill up the room and hug her tight and keep her safe. She wanted her to reassure her, to tell her that everything happened for a reason, and that everything would be alright. She knew her mama would be afraid, that she wouldn’t believe what she was saying, but she wanted her there anyway, to make everything feel safe and like home. They said what you love is home, and her mama was a part of her home.  
Alana pulled out her phone and went to her mom’s contact. Her finger hovered above the call icon. She would love to have her mother’s voice flood the room, to tell her mom everything Alana hadn’t, but she couldn’t do that to her. She couldn’t make her afraid, or sad. She deserved better than that. She was already stressed enough as it was.  
She could send her a message. Perhaps not telling her about how small and alone she felt, but maybe to ask her for advice on how to help Zoe. So she wouldn’t feel so helpless.  
Alana took a breath and readied herself. Then she texted her mom.  
**Hey mom, what are you doing?  
** Her mom responded near instantly.  
**Nothing, why  
** **Oh I was just wondering if I could ask you something.  
** **Is everything okay?  
** **Yes! My friend is just going through a rough time.  
** **Thats that girl you never stop talking about, right  
** **Mom!  
** **So i’m right.  
** **Okay yes, but that’s not the point. Her brother was Connor, like the Connor Project.  
** **That’s the boy who killed himself and wrote the emails to evan right  
** **Yes. He wasn’t very kind to Zoe though.  
** **He wasnt?  
** **No, he would scream at her and dent her door and just be really awful. And when I got here today Mrs. Murphy had baked all these things. Somehow Connor’s name came up and Zoe ran off to her room. I followed her and she was crying on her bed, even though he had been awful to her.  
** **Damn that poor girl. Is she getting help?  
** **I don’t think so.  
** **I’m glad youre there for her alana.  
** **Can I ask you for advice about being there for her?  
** **Well whats the question  
** **How do I be there for her? I just don’t want her to be alone and I don’t think she has anyone else.  
** **Well hon, you just have to be there. Even when she pushes you away, or tells you everything is fine, you just have to stay there and try to make things as easy for her as possible. Sometimes she won’t tell you what’s wrong, and thats okay, You just have to be there for her and trust that she’ll come around. You have to listen to her - and im not saying listen to what she says, i mean really listen to what’s in between the lines! Youve gotta pay attention and take care of her when she cant take care of herself, and most importantly, you have to respect and trust her to eventually let you in. She’s becoming a mature, independent woman, and she needs to be treated like that.  
** **I think I can do that.  
** **I know you can alana. Anything else you wanna talk about?  
** **No; thank you for helping me though mom!  
** **Anytime. You can ask me anything.  
** **I know.  
** Alana tucked her phone back into her pocket just as the door swung open to reveal a very wet Zoe wrapped in a towel.  
“I forgot clothes.” She gestured to her closet and Alana jumped up from the bed.  
“Obviously. I’ll let you get changed.”  
“Thanks.”  
Alana went out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She thought of her mother’s words. She could do this. She just had to be there.  
Soon Zoe opened the door again to let Alana back in. She was wearing loose-fitting pajamas and had her hair wrapped up in a towel.  
She closed the door after Alana and led her back to her bed. The two sat down next to each other, The silence was awkward and uncomfortable. She could imagine that Zoe felt uneasy, as she just became vulnerable in front of Alana for the first time. She just needed to be there for her, to reassure her that whenever she’s ready, Alana will be there. Alana took a breath.  
“If you want to talk about what happened -”  
“I don’t.”  
“Then you know I’m here.”  
They lapsed back into a silence that, in Alana’s opinion, felt slightly more at ease. They had acknowledged the elephant in the room. Now she should make Zoe feel safe again; perhaps she should lead the topic back onto safe ground.  
“You know, I still think dogs are better than cats.”  
Zoe instantly lightened up. “No they aren’t! Cats are way cooler.”  
“Dogs are so loyal though! Plus they’ve been shown to have increased health benefits for the owner.”  
“Cats do that too! Plus they’re so much lower maintenance than dogs.”  
“Dogs get you out of the hose though; they encourage exercise!”  
“And cats purr. Enough said.”  
They continued in that playful fashion for some time, the topics changing easily. Soon they went from cats and dogs to music to the future.  
Alana beamed. “I’m going to get a job at NASA. I’ve been thinking about majoring in computer engineering or earth and planetary science. Or maybe physics.”  
“I can totally see you doing that. I’m going to be a vet, I think.” Zoe had taken the towel from her hair and dropped it onto her bed.  
“Even though you don’t like dogs?”  
“I like dogs! Just not as much as cats.”  
“I will never understand that.”  
Mrs. Murphy came up some time after that to ask if Alana was staying for dinner.  
“I think I’ll actually head home, Mrs. Murphy -”  
“- Cynthia -”  
“Cynthia, but thank you for the offer!”  
“Are you sure? It’s really no bother and I know Zoe and I would love to have you. Isn’t that right, Zoe?”  
“Get out while you still can Alana.” Zoe looked at her, jokingly serious, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyebrows were drawn over her eyes as she looked up at her, the dying light catching in her tawny hair and silhouetting her. Her lips were slightly parted, the ends turned up teasingly. Alana could just make out freckles on her nose.  
“Zoe!” Mrs. Murphy scolded.  
Alana turned back to Mrs. Murphy. “I’m sure your cooking is lovely, but I really do have to get home.”  
Mrs. Murphy frowned slightly. “Well, alright, but just let me know if you change your mind. I’m making lasagna.”  
Zoe made retching noises. Mrs. Murphy shot her a disapproving look before giving Alana a smile and leaving the room.  
Alana looked at Zoe. “I think I should actually be leaving right now, my parents will want me home.”  
Zoe looked at the time. “Yeah, probably. I’ll walk you out though.”  
“Thank you!”  
They slowly made their way down the stairs and past the kitchen, where Mrs. Murphy was assembling some suspicious ingredients. The woman could bake, but not cook.  
Zoe opened the door for her and followed Alana outside. As soon as Alana left that house she felt as if a pressure had lifted. Zoe’s presence was wonderful, but that house was horrible.  
“Cute car,” Zoe said as they approached it. She leaned closer to squint at something inside. “Is that… do you have a Michelle Obama quote on your dashboard?”  
“Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I find it good to be reminded of her every day. She’s such an inspirational woman, what with her being such an accomplished lawyer and all. She sets such an incredible precedence, I can only hope I can live up to it!”  
“You already are, in my opinion.”  
Alana gaped at Zoe’s reflection in the car window, stunned into silence, before stuttering back to life. “Oh - well - thank - thank you, Zoe. I - you - Do you really think that?”  
“Yeah, I do.” Zoe looked at Alana. She blushed. “I mean, I’m sure Michelle has done a lot more things in her life than you have, but you do help a lot of people, and you always try, which I think counts for something. It’s like everything you do is so genuine, you know, which I just - I haven’t met anyone as - true - as you - like with the Connor Project, even though I hate it I can tell that all you want is to help people and stuff. Or like, when you were crying behind the library, you were still so open and I’m rambling so much, so I’m shutting up now.” Zoe clamped her mouth shut and looked at the grass. The grass could not possibly be that interesting, Zoe, Alana thought as she felt her heart pound and butterflies fly in her stomach. It’s just grass.  
Alana stared at Zoe staring at the grass for a few moments more before she could think to respond. “...Thank you, Zoe.”  
Zoe looked up at Alana. “No problem!” Zoe opened the car door for her.  
Alana looked at her in confusion. “Um Zoe, that’s the passenger side.”  
“Oh! Right! I knew that.” Zoe closed the door and stood awkwardly, staring at Alana. Her cheeks were red. “I’m just - I’m just going to go back in -”  
“Wait!”  
Zoe stopped. “Yeah?”  
“Um -” Alana tried to find the words. “Thank you, Zoe. No one really - notices things about me, so thank you. For seeing me like that, and not like some super nerdy control freak or something.”  
“No problem! I don’t think you’re a control freak, per say - but you seem nerdy, though, though I don’t know you that well - I mean, I do know you! I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you, and you make me - It’s just. You’re not a control freak. Maybe a bit nerdy, though.”  
“I like hanging out with you too, Zoe. We should do it more often.”  
“Yeah.” Zoe was staring at the grass.  
“I should go. See you soon!”  
“Tomorrow, actually.”  
“Oh right, we’re shooting the orchard video tomorrow!” Alana had forgotten about that in the turbulence of the day.  
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll convince my parents to let me hang out with you afterwards, if you’re okay with that?”  
“Yeah! I am!”  
“Great. Um, is Evan going to be there?”  
“No, he isn’t.”  
“Good.”  
Alana kept herself from asking Zoe what happened between them. Her mom told her to respect Zoe, and that meant respecting her decision to not tell her. After all, they have only really known each other for a little over a week. Though admittedly, in that week they had been very open and vulnerable with each other. Zoe had helped Alana through a panic attack and Alana had just witnessed Zoe sob into a pillow. Even though Zoe hadn’t spoken, she had let Alana stay there with her. It was like it was an invitation for closeness and further knowledge of each other.  
“Bye, Lana!” Zoe called to her as she walked back to the porch.  
“Bye, ZoZo!”  
Zoe turned around and rolled her eyes before going inside and shutting the door behind her. Alana stood there, staring after her, until she shook herself into action and got into her car. It was comforting to know that Zoe also liked what she saw about Alana, even though they didn’t know each other intimately yet.  
Yet was a very wonderful word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your girl is back! with a new chapter!! this was exhausting to edit but i think i did okay. i just need evan to have a dog okay?? also alana loves nasa. it's the darn truth. zoe is... complicated. alana still has a lot to learn. but what did WE learn? alana's mom is the MVP. i love her. she's the best.   
> i really like the way i wrote this chapter. it took a bit longer to edit but that was because i wanted to nail it, you know? so please, comment!!!! i love comments. they make my day.  
> thank you so much for reading!! it's an honor!! and i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thank you!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> There's nothing like being serenaded by Google Translate reading your fic at you.  
> I tried. I know my writing is soooooooo shit, my characterization is sooooooooo bad but i think the plot is alright! Let me know if you liked it, or spotted any mistakes in my grammar, or spelling, or any of that shiz. Oh and yes, that was a Wicked reference. I really love that musical. Hope you enjoyed it, and once again, I apologize for the crap that is my writing.


End file.
